ENTRANCE   INTO   THE   PARSONAGE. 


Page  18. 


"*-• 


THE 


PARISH-SIDE 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  SOME  OTHER  BOOKS,  AND 

CLERK 

OF    THE    PARISH     OF     EDGEF1KLD. 


Sllustrattons 


NEW   YORK  : 
MASON    BROTHERS, 

23     PARK     ROW 

1854. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by 

MASON     BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of 
New  York. 


JOHN    A.    GRAY, 

BTKHIEOTTPKD     BY  RTF.REOTYPER  AND  PRINTER 

THOMAS    13.    SMITH,  M  &  9T_Cliff  street^N.J. 

21(5  William  Street,  N.  Y. 


PREFACE, 

THE  «  Sunny-Side,"  and  the  «  Shady-Side,"  of 
Life  in  a  Parsonage,  having  been  given  to  the  world, 
and  its  sympathies,  very  justly  I  allow,  enlisted  on 
the  Pastor's  side,  it  seems  not  an  undesirable  attempt, 
nor  too  presuming  an  intention,  to  portray,  in  a  few 
sketches,  some  of  the  excitements,  labors,  and  trials, 
experienced  on  the  PARISH- SIDE. 

This  has  been  here  attempted  with  all  reasonable 
brevity,  and  with  fairness.  The  writer  has  not  ar 
rayed  the  Parish  against  the  minister,  but  has  repre 
sented  the  two  as  happily  united  in  the  strong,  indis 
soluble  tie  of  LOVE,  fulfilling  the  same  ends  of  the 
Gospel  Church. 

It  had  been  an  easy  matter  to  produce  from  some 
other  society  a  darker  picture,  than  is  furnished  in  the 
well-ordered  Parish  ol  Edge  field.  For  to  whom  is  it 

ivi20<li81 


iv  PREFACE 

not  known,  that  in  the  ruins  of  many  a  Parish,  here 
and  there,  may  be  gathered  up  the  certain  history  of 
an  unhappy  pastoral  relation — at  least,  the  proof,  that 
pastor  and  people  were  not  heartily  united  ? 

The  writer  finds  that  he  has  now  but  made  a  be 
ginning.  The  history  of  the  labors,  trials,  and  sacri 
fices  of  his  native  Parish,  from  its  commencement  to 
the  present  time,  would  fill  a  dozen  volumes  of  the 
size  of  this  j  but,  at  present,  the  reader  must  be  satis 
fied  with  the  sketches  that  have  been  prepared.  If 
amused  or  saddened  by  them,  yet  let  him  learn  the 
gracious  care  of  His  church  and  people  which  a 
covenant-keeping  God  manifests,  through  the  changes 
and  trials  of  an  hundred  years. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

)E  EXPECTED — THE 
— TIIE  PARSONAGE   .  ...  11 


MR.  WILLIAMS— THE  BRIDE  EXPECTED— THE  PARISH  EXCITEMENT  PA< 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  SUDDEN  STORM— THE  PARSONAGE  FEELS  IT—  SCRUBBING— 
THE  ARRIVAL 15 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  PASTOR 20 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  PARISH  AS  IT  WAS — PASTORLESS        ...  ,25 

CHAPTER  V. 
EDGEFIELD ,  32 

CHAPTER   VI. 

DEACON  HARTWELL  AND  OTHER  VILLAGERS       :       ;  :    35 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PAGE 

SHRUBBERY  FESTIVAL        '.       .  *       .       «       .       .47 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  SCENE  AT  THE  PARSONAGE         ••    r    ;  ••    :-  *-'      •       .»       .55 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  AWAKENING -    .    62 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  LADIES'  SEWING  SOCIETY 68 

CHAPTER   XI. 
THE  PARISH  VISIT 75 

CHAPTER  XII. 
SALE  OP  THE  SLIPS 83 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

DIFFICULT  TO  SUIT  ALL .       .89 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  SOCIETY'S  COMMITTEE — THE  BELL       .       .'       .       .       .93 

CHAPTER  XV. 

YlSITING  TUB  SlCK  ;  100 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

PAUK 

THE  SUBJECT  CONTINUED — THE  RULING  PASSION     .        .        .108 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
BENEVOLENT  SOCIETIES — COLLECTIONS 116 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PRIVATE  JOURNAL — WEST  EDGEFIELD      .       ^      ;       i       .122 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

JOURNAL  RESUMED — A  SPLIT    .       .       .       .       .       .       .125 

CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  CHURCH  TO  BE  ENLARGED         ..«**.    131 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

JOURNAL  AGAIN — THE  "  DISPUTING  TERRITORY"  IN  THE  PARISH      134 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

JOURNAL  OF  MARCH  30 — FIRE! 140 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 

THE  NEW  CHURCH  GOES  UP  SLOWLY       .       .        .       .        .150 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

TROUBLE  FROM  ABBOAD  156 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

PAGB 

THE  DEDICATION  OVER — TEE  SEXTON  ALONE    .       .       .       .163 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CHURCH  PROPRIETIES  AND  IMPROPRIETIES        .       .       .       .168 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

JOURNAL — ANXIETIES  OF  A  PARISH  .       .       .       .       .       .    175 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

JOURNAL — THE  YOUNG-  FOLKS — COMPANY  AT  ESQ.  PETERS'        .    181 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
TEMPERANCE— FAULT-FINDERS  .       .       .  .       .       .    195 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

MARRIAGES — TROUBLES  IN  THE  TOWN 204 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

SCANDALOUS  PROCEEDINGS  AT  THE  HOLLOW — DEBT — MR.  WIL 
LIAMS — OTHER  CLERGYMEN — APPEAL 210 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

JOURNAL  CONTINUED — PASTOR  FEEBLE — DEACON  GONE  I-  -       .    217 

CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

TRIALS— SUPPORT  tfp  PASTORS  *  ,221 


CONTENTS.  IX 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


PAGE 

How  THE  SALARY  MAY  BE  RAISED — MR.  BROWN      .  .  230 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
THE  SUBJECT  CONCLUDED,  BY  AN  ARGUMENT     ....  244 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

PREPARATION'S  FOR  THE  TOUR  249 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

LEAVE  OP  ABSENCE — ARCHIBALD — THE  PARSONAGE  .       .       .  256 

1* 


CHAPTER   I. 

MB.    WILLIAMS — TIIE   BRIDE  EXPECTED — THE  PARISH   EXCITEMENT 

THE  PARSONAGE. 

OUR  minister,  Mr.  George  Williams,  was  to  return  in 
two  weeks,  with  his  bride.  We  did  not  know  anything  about 
her,  excepting  what  we  had  learned  from  occasional  hints  or 
remarks  of  Mr.  Williams,  who  would,  of  course,  speak  in 
her  praise.  We  were  all,  therefore,  quite  anxious  on  this 
point.  It  would  be  so  happy  for  the  parish,  if  Mrs.  Williams 
should  prove  to  be  the  minister's  wife  we  all  desired,  and  so 
unfortunate,  if  not.  Well !  we  were  quite  in  commotion 
and  excitement.  Mr.  Williams,  our  minister,  was  but 
twenty-six  years  of  age,  and  had  preached  for  us  two  years. 
He  had  been  ordained,  by  the  consociation,  after  preaching 
a  few  weeks,  and  by  the  society  generally  was  beloved  and 
respected.  There  were  some,  who,  at  the  first,  were  not  as 
cordial  in  their  feelings  towards  him  as  we  wished.  But 
his  piety  and  talents  were  so  decided,  and  his  social  char 
acter  was  so  pleasing,  that  at  the  end  of  two  years,  there 
were  very  few  who  stood  at  all  aloof  from  him.  His  course 
had  been  marked  by  the  blessing  of  God  on  his  labors. 


12  PARIS  II  -  SI  DE. 

Many  were  received  into  the  church ;  the  congregation  was 
large,  and  continually  increasing ;  there  being  very  few  slips 
in  the  church  that  were  not  crowded  every  Sabbath ;  and 
his  popularity  and  usefulness  were  undeniable. 

Now  he  was  absent,  to  secure  and  bring  home  his  bride. 
We  all  rejoiced  at  this  circumstance,  for  it  had  been  six 
years  since  we  had  a  minister's  wife  among  us,  with  whom 
all  were  pleased.  We  amused  ourselves,  both  the  old  and 
the  young,  especially  the  latter,  in  guessing  how  she  would 
look;  whether  she  was  as  tall  as  Miss  Angelina,  the 
daughter  of  Deacon  Hartwell,  or  as  short  and  round  as 
Henrietta  Peters,  or  as  comely  and  graceful  as  Anna  Evans. 
We  thought  how  she  would  blush,  _when  she  first  came  into 
into  church,  and  everybody  gazed  at  her.  What  a  memory 
she  would  needs  possess,  to  recollect  the  names  of  all  the 
gentlemen  and  ladies  in  the  parish,  to  whom  she  would  be 
introduced.  Then  we  fancied  how  delighted  she  would  be 
to  arrange  all  her  furniture,  and  boxes,  and  papers  in  the 
sweet  old  Parsonage,  so  lately  all  brushed  up  !  We  made 
many  and  many  a  plan  to  go  and  see  our  minister  and  his 
bride,  and  thought  how  many  interesting  and  excellent 
stories  she  would  tell  the  little  children,  when  they  were  al 
lowed  to  visit  her.  She  must  be  everything  sweet,  and 
amiable,  and  talented,  and  good.  "  Oh !  if  she  should  be 
ugly  !  No,  no,  no  !  she  can't  be.  Our  minister  cannot  have 
anybody  that's  ugly  for  his  wife." 

The  Parish  was  all  expectation.  It  was  a  pleasant  idea 
that  we  were  to  greet  again  among  us  the  wife  of  our  minis- 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  13 

tcr :  quite  an  aftair  of  importance.  The  ladies  made  ar 
rangements  to  furnish  the  pantry  with  every  choice  delicacy 
they  could  think  of,  and  had  they  known  what  would  have 
oeen  agreeable  to  the  new  occupant,  they  would  cheerfully 
have  arranged  the  whole  house,  that  the  labor  of  doing  it 
might  have  been  spared  her.  They,  however,  contented 
themselves  with  washing  and  dusting  it  very  thoroughly, 
and  airing  it  every  day.  The  young  ladies,  assisted  by  some 
of  the  young  gentlemen,  brushed  over  the  newly  springing 
grass  in  the  front  yard,  and  trimmed  up  the  rose  bushes, 
lilacs,  and  other  shrubbery.  As  there  were  a  few  acres  of 
good  land  attached  to  the  Parsonage,  the  fences  were  put  in 
repair,  and  Deacon  Hartwell  came  with  his  stout  horse  and 
ploughed  the  garden.  Mr.  Williams  had  agreed  with  Mr. 
Simonds  to  plant  the  potatoe  and  corn  grounds  "  at  halves," 
and  this  was  left  for  him  to  see  to. 

The  Parish  of  Eflgefield  is  an  old  and  respectable  one. 
It  is  situated  near  the  Connecticut  river,  and  is  beautiful  in 
meadow,  upland,  and  valley  scenery.  The  farms  are  good, 
the  village  thriving  and  populous,  the  inhabitants,  for  the 
most  part,  orderly,  temperate,  industrious,  and  religious. 
They  are,  at  least,  in  the  habit  of  attending  to  the  means  of 
grace  on  the  Sabbath,  and  it  is  a  pleasing  sight  to  witness 
the  crowds  that  regularly  go  up  to  the  sanctuary  to  worship 
God  on  the  Lord's  day. 

In  a  central  part  of  the  village,  but  a  short  distance  from 
the  church,  is  the  Parsonage.  It  is  a  two-storied  house, 
with  two  large  maple  trees  in  front  of  it,  and  a  gravelled 


14  PAR  IS  II -8  IDE. 

walk  from  the  front  door  down  a  curved  line  to  the  white 
picket  gate.  Along  this  there  grow  some  beautiful  heads 
of  box,  and  between  these  are  rose  and  wax-berry  bushes ; 
and  Persian  lilacs  grow  in  the  corners  of  the  yard.  The 
posts  of  the  fence  in  front  of  the  parsonage  are  very  tall, 
and  graced  with  rounded  balls,  and  a  large  gate  opens  into 
a  drive-way  to  the  back  yard  and  barn.  Some  large  cherry, 
pear  and  apple-trees  grow  on  the  south  side,  and  on  the  east 
and  north  sides  of  the  parsonage,  and  the  orchard  is  full  of 
beautiful  trees,  that  produce  much  delicious  fruit.  A  little 
stream  of  water  winds  its  way  along  on  the  back  side  of  the 
house,  and  it  is  just  rapid  enough  to  carry  little  water- 
wheels,  and  to  permit  of  dams  and  waterfalls. 

The  carpenters  and  painters,  white-washers  and  scrubbers 
had  been  hard  at  work  on  the  house  to  have  it  ready — for 
the  new  bride.  The  windows  were  dazzling  clear,  the  paint 
and  mortar  being  carefully  and  thoroughly  removed  from 
them,  the  window  blinds  were  newly  painted,  and  the  whole 
house  shone  like  a  new  thing  in  its  beautiful  retreat.  How 
would  the  beloved  minister  and  his  bride  admire  it  all ! 
And  there  was  some  impatience  for  their  arrival.  The 
Parish  had  raised  over  two  hundred  dollars  to  repair  the 
Parsonage,  and  everybody  was  gratified  to  see  how  great  a 
change  had  been  wrought  in  a  few  weeks.  A  good  many 
went  to  visit  it,  and  wander  over  it  while  they  might,  with 
out  causing  any  vexation  to  its*  occupants.  Almost  every 
one  said,  "  what  a  sweet  parlor,  •  "  what  a  delightful  little 
bed  room,"  "  what  a  snug  pantry  '  /So  they  were  pleased, 
and  all  in  expectation. 


CHAPTEE   II. 

THE  SUDDEN  STORM — THE  PARSONAGE  FEELS  IT — SCRUBBING — THE  ARRIVAL 

THE  morning  previous  to  the  arrival  was  one  of  the  love 
liest  of  spring.  The  sun  shone  without  a  cloud,  the  little 
birds  came  out  and  sung  most  cheerfully,  the  air  was  truly 
mild.  Everybody  said,  "  what  a  beautiful  spring  opening 
is  this."  At  noon  a  change  was  observed  in  the  air ;  the 
wind  came  in  little  gusts  from  the  south-east,  and  envious 
clouds  shot  rapidly  over  the  face  of  the  bright  sky.  Be 
fore  night  the  wind  became  very  fresh  and  the  clouds  very 
black,  and  it  was  evident  to  all  that  one  of  those  violent 
south-east  storms  which  are  frequent  on  the  coast  and  along 
the  river  towns,  was  just  ready  to  fall  upon  us.  Before  nine 
o'clock,  the  storm  broke  in  great  fury ;  wind,  rain,  lightning 
and  thunder  disturbed  the  night.  Few  remembered  a  more 
violent  storm.  More  than  one  chimney  in  the  place  was 
blown  off;  one  barn  was  blown  over ;  several  trees  were 
torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  there  was  a  great  trembling 
throughout  the  Parish. 

"  Oh  !  what  a  terrible  time  for  the  minister  and  his  bride, 
his  new  bride,  to  return,"  said  Mrs.  Hartwell. 


16  PARIS  II -RIDE. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  hard  storm,"  said  the  Deacon.  "  I  am  afraid 
the  Parsonage  will  suffer  from  it.  These  south-east  gales 
always  hit  the  house  fair.  I  think  we  shall  find  matters  in 
a  poor  plight  there,  in  the  morning." 

"  Why  you  distress  me  at  the  very  thought  of  it,"  said 
she.  "  Is  it  not  most  unfortunate,  especially  when  every 
thing  is  in  such  complete  order  for  their  reception." 

"  Well,  storms  come  as  they  are  sent,"  he  replied ;  "  we 
shall  see  in  the  morning." 

The  morning  came,  and  the  storm  seemed  about  over. 
But  how  dismal  was  the  sight  abroad.  How  many  trees 
were  torn  up,  or  broken,  old  fences  scattered  over  the  fields, 
hedges  spoiled,  and  barns  and  dwellings  injured. 

Alas !  the  Parsonage.  The  wind  had  driven  in  a  win 
dow  of  the  pantry,  and  pies,  cakes,  and  sweetmeats,  were 
drenched  and  drowning  in  rain  pools.  The  back-door  had 
blown  open,  and  the  rain  had  rushed  in,  leaves  and  mud 
had  followed  through  the  hall  into  the  kitchen.  The  large 
apple-tree  that  sheltered  the  kitchen  window  from  the  morn 
ing  sun,  was  blown  down  on  to  the  house,  and  had  smashed 
in  and  ruined  the  window.  The  kitchen,  floor,  walls,  and 
furniture,  were  in  an  awful  plight.  The  cellar  had  a  foot  of 
water  in  it.  The  garret  floor  was  drenched  with  water  that 
came  in  from  the  side  of  the  scuttle  and  chimney.  In  front 
of  the  house,  the  shrubbery  was  much  of  it  prostrated,  the 
leaves  and  sticks  had  been  blown  all  back  into  the  beauti 
ful  front  yard,  a  large  limb  from  one  of  the  tall  maples 
hung  down  on  the  front  gate,  having  been  broken  off  by  the 


PARISH-SIDE.  17 

violence  of  the  wind,  and  the  poor  fence  that  was  on  the  east 
side  of  the  garden,  was  nearly  all  blown  down.  The  large 
doors  of  the  barn  were  thrown  from  their  hinges,  and  one 
of  them  almost  ruined.  The  wood  in  the  shed  was  all 
drenched  with  rain.  Awful  was  the  contrast  with  yester 
day  !  Disheartening  indeed  !  And  everybody  had  so  much 
to  do  with  his  own  house,  it  seemed  impossible  at  once  to 
put  in  order  the  Parsonage. 

But  as  Mr.  Williams  would  certainly  arrive  that  very 
day,  the  people  left  their  own  houses,  and  gathered  together 
to  put  the  Parsonage  in  some  order  again. 

There  were  assembled,  hard  at  work,  by  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  at  which  time  the  sun  came  out,  Deacon  Hart- 
well,  and  Mrs.  Hartwell,  and  Jonas,  and  Angelina ;  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Street,  and  Evelina ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sweetser.  and 
Henry ;  Mrs.  Herrick,  Mrs.  Burgess,  and  her  two  daugh 
ters  ;  Esquire  Peters  and  his  wife,  and  two  of  their  daugh 
ters  ;  Dr.  Alexander  came,  and  his  widowed  daughter,  Mrs. 
Hillhouse.  And  there  were  a  great  many  besides  these. 
And  they  brushed,  and  shoveled,  and  mopped.  They  cut 
down  the  broken  limb  of  the  maple.  They  sawed  off  and 
removed  as  carefully  as  possible  the  fallen  apple-tree. 
They  obtained  a  new  window-frame,  and  puttied  in  the 
glass.  And  all  worked,  and  some  joked,  and  all  perspired. 
Old  dresses  draggled  on  the  wet  floors ;  hands  unused  to 
much  toil,  grasped  hold  of  any  object  that  was  to  be  re 
moved,  and  made  familiar  acquaintance  with  soot,  and  glass* 
and  chips  Men  lifted  hard  to  femove  the  trunks  and  limbs 


18  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

of  the  fallen  trees,  and  all  this  time  every  one  was  hoping 
that  the  minister  would  not  come.  But  the  day  was  fixed. 
Mr.  Williams  and  his  bride  were  wishing  to  find  themselves 
safe  in  their  new  home.  As  soon  as  possible,  under  the  cir 
cumstances  of  the  storm,  Mr.  Williams  left  the  hotel  where1 
he  had  passed  the  night,  several  miles  away  from  Edgefield, 
and  as  fast  as  the  state  of  the  roads  would  allow,  hurried 
towards  home. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  excitement,  hard  work,  and  dread 
ful  disappointment — hark  !  the  sound  of  a  carriage  rattling 
over  the  bridge  in  the  direction  from  which  Mr.  Williams 
will  arrive — another  moment,  and  a  carriage  gains  the  top 
of  the  hill  at  the  lower  end  of  the  village.  A  lad  runs  over 
to  the  Parsonage,  out  of  breath,  and  cries  out,  "  They're 
come  !  they're  come  !"  What  a  shriek  of  consternation  fol 
lowed  !  How  the  ladies  looked !  How  the  gentlemen 
stormed !  How  the  whole  parsonage  appeared  !  "How  could 
they  come  f  "  How  can  we  see  them  ?"  Such  were  the  ex 
clamations.  The  ladies  seized  their  aprons,  and  wiped  away 
the  perspiration  from  their  eyes  and  cheeks.  Some  ran  to 
the  looking-glasses.  Some  scolded  and  fretted.  Others 
wore  a  mock  calmness.  Some  courtesied  and  said,  "  How 
do  you  do,  my  dear  Miss  Hartwell,  most  happy  to  see 
you,"  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth.  They  ought  immediately 
to  have  sent  some  one  to  meet  the  carriage,  and  escort  the 
travellers  to  the  Deacon's.  But  no  one  thought  of  this  until 
it  was  too  late.  The  carriage  was  at  the  door.  And  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Williams  were  out,  mid  working  their  way  over 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  19 

the  ruins  towards  the  front  entrance,  before  anybody 
thought  of  stopping  them. 

Shaking  hands  with  this  one  and  that  one,  they  were  in. 
"  Oh,  dear  !"  shouted  the  minister,  as  he  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  parlor,  the  doors  of  the  house  all  open,  and  the 
cleansing  but  half  through,  and  all  the  disaster  at  once  re 
vealed, — "What  in  the  wide  world  has  come  to  pass, 
speak?" 

There  was  nothing  to  be  said.  The  ladies  covered  their 
faces,  the  gentlemen  gathered  in.  The  minister  looked  at 
his  wife.  This  was  an  introduction  into  parsonage-life  with 
out  a  precedent.  Here  was  the  quiet,  peaceful,  smiling 
home  he  had  pictured  to  his  youthful  bride.  Mr.  "Williams 
rather  stole  a  glance  at  her  than  fairly  looked  her  in  the 
face.  But  that  reassured  him.  Such  a  mirthful,  facetious 
expression  ran  over  her  countenance,  that  he,  unable  to  re 
press  it,  burst  into  a  loud,  spasmodic  laugh,  and  as  it  was 
as  well  to  laugh  as  cry,  and  the  laugh  was  catching,  it  was 
followed  by  all  the  gentlemen,  ladies,  boys,  and  girls,  who 
had  crowded  together  into  the  house.  And  so  Mr.  Williams 
introduced  his  young  wife  to  her  new  home,  and  to  a  great 
circle  of  his  best  friends.  They  shook  hands  and  laughed, 
and  apologized,  and  "  dismalized,"  and  "  awfulized,"  and 
"  Oh  deared,"  till  thoroughly  acquainted,  and  then  all  recol 
lected  that  Mr.  Williams  must  go  immediately  to  Deacon 
Hartwell's  till  things  were  put  right  at  the  Parsonage. 


CHAPTE'K   III. 

THE     PASTOR. 

WE  had  scarcely  thought  of  examining  the  features  or 
carriage  of  our  minister's  wife,  or  of  criticising  her  ways  and 
peculiarities,  if,  indeed,  she  exhibited  any  peculiarities,  so 
overwhelmed  were  we  with  our  own  sad  plight,  and  so  deep 
ly  were  we  distressed,  humbled,  and  mortified.  But  we  re 
membered  after  all  was  over,  and  things  had  been  arranged, 
that  she  appeared  exceedingly  kind,  and  that  she  was  agree 
able  and  intelligent  looking — perhaps  rather  graceful  and 
pretty.  We  came,  in  due  time,  to  appreciate  her  very  highly. 
It  was  three  or  four  days  before  they  were  quietly  domesti 
cated  at  the  Parsonage.  In  about  two  weeks  they  had 
everything  comfortably  and  permanently  settled,  and  the 
people  began  to  pay  them  frequent  calls.  Mr.  Williams 
received  them  with  great  politeness,  and  seemed  to  be 
happy  in  witnessing  the  favorable  impression  that  attended 
his  wife's  introduction  to  the  Parish.  He  immediately  re 
commenced  his  pastoral  visits  among  us,  and  one  of  his  first 
cares  was  to  call  on  the  sick.  Two  or  three  persons  had 
died  in  his  absence,  and  he  visited  the  families  that  had  been 


PARIS  II -BIDE.  21 

afflicted,  tendering  them  his  kindest  sympathies,  and  consol 
ing  them  by  the  presentation  of  the  most  appropriate  truths 
of  the  gospel.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  him  thus  engaged 
in  the  work  of  his  Master,  who  himself  when  on  the  earth 
went  about  doing  good ;  and  to  enjoy  his  presence  among 
us  as  an  ambassador  of  God.  He  labored  as  one  "  caring 
for  the  sheep,"  "  taking  the  oversight  thereof,  not  by  con 
straint,  but  willingly ;  not  for  filthy  lucre,  but  of  a  ready 
mind." 

His  people,  however,  took  care  to  see  him  provided  with 
a  comfortable  support.  They  paid  him  a  salary  of  five  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year,  and  he  had  the  Parsonage, 
also,  valued  at  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  year. 
He  was  a  little  in  debt  for  his  education  when  he  came 
among  us ;  but  by  economy  in  his  expenses,  and  a  frugal 
way  of  living,  he  reduced  the  sum  very  soon,  and  by-and- 
bye  it  was  all  paid.  The  people  vied  with  each  other  in 
showing  him  little  acts  of  kindness,  and  in  presenting  him 
with  delicacies  and  substantials  for  his  table.  When  the 
winter  arrived,  they  drew  him  twelve  or  fifteen  loads  of 
wood.  He  also  received  hay  and  straw  for  his  horse  and 
cow.  Rarely  did  Thanksgiving,  Christmas,  or  New  Year's 
arrive,  without  his  table  being  loaded  writh  a  fat  turkey  or 
two,  or  a  goose,  or  a  large  fine  roast,  or  ham.  Occasionally 
the  young  men  collected  money,  and  purchased  him  books 
for  his  library ;  and  a  large  idolized  arm-chair,  rather  too 
easy  for  hard  work  in  the  study,  once  found  its  way  into 
it  during  his  absence.  The  ladies  made  Mrs.  Williams 


2  P  A  R  I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E . 

many  a  delicate  present,  that  she  highly  appreciated.  A 
very  easy  and  rich  sofa  was  also  given  to  them,  and  a  splen 
did  rocker.  One  old  gentleman,  who  loved  to  do  things  by 
himself,  bought  Mr.  Williams  a  large  and  finely-moulded 
map  of  the  United  States,  which  he  hung  in  the  hall.  One 
little  boy  brought  over  a  pair  of  beautiful  young  doves  to 
Mrs.  Williams,  and  received  a  most  hearty  kiss  from  her  in 
return. 

"  And  now  where  shall  we  put  them  V  inquired  she. 

"Oh!  I'll  tell  you,"  said  he.  "There  are  some  dove 
holes  in  the  south  end  of  the  old  cow-house,  where  it  is 
warm;  and  Charlie  Brigham  is  coming  up  this  afternoon 
with  a  saw  and  hammer,  to  make  a  box  inside.  That  will 
be  nice,  wont  it  V 

"Very,  indeed  !"  she  replied.  "  My  beautiful  little  doves, 
what  a  warm  sunny  house  you  will  then  have." 

Mr.  Williams  was  not  an  idle  man.  He  arose  early  and 
often  wrote  in  his  study  an  hour  before  breakfast,  and  em 
ployed  as  much  of  the  forenoon  in  this  exercise  as  possible. 
He  visited  the  people  frequently  in  the  afternoon.  His 
evenings  were  for  the  most  part  spent  in  his  own  family. 
He  preached  two  written  sermons  every  Sabbath,  unless  ill, 
or  relieved  by  the  assistance  of  some  brother  minister,  who 
was  present.  Occasionally  he  preached  a  third  sermon,  but 
this  was  not  his  rule.  Yet  he  seldom  failed  to  attend  the 
third  exercise,  and  to  make  some  remarks.  He  had  also 
his  regular  Wednesday  evening  lecture,  and  a  bible  class 
on  Friday  evenings.  The  prayer  meetings,  other  than 


P  A  R  I  B  II  -  S  I  D  E  . 


these,  he  seldom  attended.  A  largo  number  of  funerals  oc 
curred  every  year  in  the  Parish  requiring  his  time  and  ef 
fort.  He  visited  the  Sabbath  School  frequently,  and  spoke 
to  the  children.  A  great  many  days  every  year  he  passed 
in  visiting  the  District  Schools  of  the  town,  and  he  often 
spent  hours  of  his  time  in  the  examination  of  teachers  for 
the  schools.  He  belonged  to  an  association  of  ministers, 
and  to  a  ministers'  monthly  meeting.  The  church  was  a 
consociated  one,  consequently  he  was  often  abroad  on  busi 
ness  appropriate  to  such  connections.  His  time  was  thus 
all  occupied.  Few  men  have  had  more  to  do,  or  more  re 
sponsible  trusts  to  secure.  The  minister  of  Christ  is,  more 
over,  set  to  watch  for  souls,  as  one  who  must  give  account. 
Mr.  Williams  regarded  this  as  his  highest  responsibility, 
and  it  rested  much  upon  his  mind.  He  would  often  ex 
claim,  "  Lord  !  who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?" 

He  was  an  earnest,  solemn,  faithful  preacher.  And  he 
was  successful  in  his  master's  work.  At  one  time  previous 
to  his  marriage,  over  sixty  persons  united  with  the  church, 
who  were  believed  to  be  truly  converted  to  God.  Not  un- 
frequently,  two  or  three  persons,  not  in  a  time  of  general 
awakening  on  the  subject  of  religion,  would  be  propounded 
for  admission  to  the  church,  and  often  some  one  who  was 
distressed,  on  account  of  his  sins,  would  call  to  converse 
with  him  at  his  study. 

As  I  have  reflected  on  the  kind  of  life  our  minister  led, 
and  have  been  an  eye  witness  to  it,  I  have  been  ready  to 
doubt  whether  he  could  long  endure  such  a  constant  demand 


24  PARISH-SIDE. 

on  him  for  his  time  and  exertions.  Then  I  have  admired 
the  grace  of  God  in  the  adaptation  of  some  men's  minds  to 
labors  of  this  very  nature  ;  and  have  seen  that  it  was  "  of 
grace"  that  no  one  might  boast.  I  have  never  failed  at  such 
seasons  to  see  the  value  of  these  labors  to  a  given  com 
munity  !  Who  but  a  servant  of  Christ,  a  devoted,  self-sacri 
ficing  minister  of  the  Gospel  will,  or  can,  perform  the  du 
ties  that  devolve  constantly  on  the  PASTOR  OF  A  PARISH  ! 
I  hold  him,  therefore,  very  high  in  my  private  esteem.  I 
know  not  how  he  could  be  spared  if  it  is  important  to  se 
cure  attention  to  those  society  matters  that  in  all  Christian 
communities  have,  from  the  earliest  times,  been  highly 
valued.  And  then  how  simple  is  the  whole  arrangement 
by  which  he  is  secured  to  us,  and  the  objects  of  his  care  re 
garded.  A  small  salary,  that  is  raised  with  very  little  in 
convenience  to  any  one  person,  supports  him.  Kind  atten 
tion  and  confidence  cheer  him,  and  the  blessing  of  God  on 
the  word  spoken,  gives  him  life.  Who  would  not  be  of 
those  that  by  their  united  action  secure  to  a  people  one  who 
goes  out  and  in  among  them,  breaking  unto  them  the  Bread 
of  Life  !  Many  fear  that  he  will  early  finish  his  work  on 
earth,  but  I  trust  that  he  may  long  be  spared  to  us,  the 
faithful  shepherd  of  the  fold  of  Christ. 


CHAPTER   IY. 

THE    PAKI8H    AS    IT    WAS  —  PASTORLE8S. 

OUR  society  and  parish  had  passed  through  something  of 
a  "  fiery  trial"  previous  to  Mr.  Williams's  settlement.  I  do 
not  like  to  publish  it,  but  perhaps  it  is  desirable,  that  it  may 
be  the  better  understood  why  we  were  made  so  very  happy 
by  having  a  good  and  faithful  minister  with  us,  and  a  most  in 
telligent  and  agreeable  lady  for  his  wife.  As  I  have  already 
said,  it  had  been  six  years  since  one  of  this  description  had 
been  with  us.  Indeed,  we  were  four  years  without  a  settled 
minister,  until  Mr.  Williams  came.  During  this  period  the 
Parish  had  "  heard"  a  large  number  of  candidates,  and  for 
a  year  employed  Rev.  Mr.  Rice  as  a  "  stated  supply."  Mrs. 
Rice  accompanied  her  husband,  but  resided  among  us  very 
little  of  that  period.  She  "  didn't  like  the  country.  Her 
husband  was  accustomed  to  a  city  congregation,  and  herself 
to  a  city  life."  "  The  manners  of  the  coun'try  people,"  she 
said,  "  displeased  her,  and  if  she  remained  too  long  at  any 
one  time  among  them,  she  was  sure  to  grow  stiff  and  awk 
ward  herself."  She  was  a  very  dignified  lady,  and  fine  look 
ing,  and  she  always  dressed  in  good  taste,  extremely  in  fash- 

2 


26  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

ion,  and  at  times  appeared  affable.  But  she  took  no  decid 
ed  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  society,  and  urged  her  hus 
band  to  leave  it  as  soon  as  his  engagement  expired.  Mr. 
Rice  was  a  mild  inoffensive  sort  of  a  man,  who  would  have 
taken  an  interest  in  the  Parish  if  his  family  had  allowed  it. 
When  he  was  alone  he  seemed  to  enjoy  his  position  among 
us,  and  he  even  said,  to  some  of  his  friends,  that  could  he 
have  his  own  way  about  it,  he  should  love  to  pass  the  even 
ing  of  life  among  just  such  a  people,  and  in  the  quietude  of 
the  country  Parish.  But  with  the  expiration  of  the  year  he 
left.  He  died  two  years  ago  in  the  city  of  New  York,  quite 
disheartened  and  broken  down.  His  wife,  who  is  wealthy, 
resides  there  still. 

The  last  minister  we  had  settled  among  us  was  always 
uneasy.  He  had  been  married  thrice.  His  last  wife  was  a 
woman  of  considerable  education  and  refinement,  with  a 
tolerable  share  of  piety.  But  she  was  always  looking  on 
the  dark  side  of  things,  and  rambling  off  into  regions  of 
poetry  and  fancy,  to  the  serious  loss  of  her  influence,  and 
the  detriment  of  her  usefulness,  patience  and  contentment. 
She  became  finally  so  disgusted,  or  wearied  out  with  the 
duties  of  her  station,  that  she  incessantly  urged  her  husband 
to  leave.  She  was  quite  a  writer.  Some  of  the  magazines 
and  papers  published  her  articles.  To  complete  these  she 
sat  up  frequently  half  the  night,  and  slept  away  the  whole 
of  the  next  morning,  prayers  and  all.  Being  paid  for  these 
efforts,  she  magnified  her  office  in  the  eye  of  her  husband, 
and  induced  him  to  think  that  in  another  sphere,  where 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  27 

literary  privileges  were  more  abundant  than  here,  she  might 
be  able,  by  her  pen,  to  half  support  the  family.  Mr.  Smith 
felt  accordingly  very  uneasy.  They  both  grew  more  and 
more  dissatisfied.  They  neglected  to  call  as  usual,  on  tho 
people,  or  to  interest  themselves  in  the  Sabbath  School,  tho 
prayer  meetings,  or  the  weekly  associations.  Mr.  Smith 
said  that  he  must  have  more  salary  if  he  should  think  of  re 
maining.  But  he  complained  of  the  coldness  of  the  people, 
the  endless  strifes  among  certain  families  in  the  Parish,  of 
the  dulness  of  the  society,  the  want  of  high  schools  to  cdu 
cate  his  children,  of  the  severity  of  his  labors,  and  general 
failure  of  physical  health  to  discharge  the  duties  of  tho 
place.  We  went  time  and  again  to  him,  offered  him  more 
salary,  gave  him  presents,  deplored  the  coldness  of  tho 
church  and  the  variance  of  the  families  he  had  mentioned. 
We  offered  to  release  him  from  the  duties  of  the  pulpit  for 
three  or  six  months,  or  longer  if  he  desired  it,  that  he  might 
recruit  his  strength,  and  promised  to  relieve  him  of  many 
of  his  burdens.  Thus  we  discussed  the  matter  for  one  or 
two  years.  At  length  he  asked  a  dismission.  The  church, 
in  the  meanwhile,  had  lost  their  first  attachment  to  him. 
He  no  longer  manifested  a  whole-hearted  interest  in  them, 
but  was  complaining,  uneasy,  and  frequently  absent.  We 
ascertained  that  he  had  preached  as  a  "  candidate"  for  settle 
ment  in  several  churches,  here  and  there,  in  the  meantime 
sending  to  us  over  the  Sabbath  some  "  Licentiate"  from  the 
Seminary,  or  a  minister  not  otherwise  employed.  True, 
he  did  not  seem  to  suit  any  of  them,  for  he  received  no  call. 


28  PARISH -SIDE. 

But  this  course  of  things,  continued  some  time  and  perse- 
veringly,  weaned  many  of  his  old  friends  from  him,  and 
after  much  personal  bickering  on  all  sides,  we  parted.  The 
wounds  of  those  days  are  not  yet  healed,  but  time  has 
softened  them.  They  went  elsewhere,  but  we  have  never 
heard  much  about  his  ministerial  labors  or  successes  since. 

After  Mr.  Smith  left,  we  engaged  a  young  man  from  the 
Seminary,  to  supply  the  pulpit.  He  preached  three  Sab 
baths,  and  then  his  scholastic  sermons  being  ended,  he  ac 
cepted  of  another  similar  invitation  in  another  vacant  church, 
and  we  received  in  his  place  an  aged  minister  residing  in 
the  neighborhood.  His  sermons  were  excellent,  but  the 
paper  on  which  they  were  written  was  discolored  by  age, 
torn  and  ruffled  by  long  and  hard  usage.  The  young  peo 
ple  smiled  as  he  drew  them  forth  from  his  pocket,  and  they 
slept  over  his  antiquated  periods.  But  he  was  a  good  man, 
and  has  since,  I  suppose,  gone  to  his  great  reward. 

One  person  supplied  our  pulpit  for  three  months,  who,  at 
the  same  time,  (as  we  at  length  ascertained,)  also  had  an 
engagement  to  supply  two  other  pulpits.  He  accordingly 
farmed  out  the  whole  to  his  other  licentiates  on  advantageous 
terms  to  himself,  preaching  an  occasional  sermon  in  each 
place  to  satisfy  the  people,  and  considered  it  a  very  good 
business  transaction.  We  had  in  four  years  more  than  sixty 
different  preachers.  And  perhaps  there  were  two  hundred 
different  applications  for  the  pulpit.  Three  or  four  young 
ministers  found  their  wives  among  us  in  this  manner  !  Some 
of  these  preachers  were  remarkable  for  their  "  beauty,"  oth- 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  20 

ers  for  their  "grace"  and  "youthful  appearance."  Again  it 
was  said  of  one,  "  how  eloquent  he  is  !"  Of  others  it  was 
remarked  they  were  "  exceedingly  talented  !"  Some  were 
great  "  readers,"  others  great  "  thinkers ;"  again,  great  "  talk 
ers."  It  was  thought  that  we  might  safely  calculate  that 
this  person  would  make  a  "  splendid  extempore  speaker," 
another  a  "  fine  writer."  Some  of  the  people  admired  the 
speakers  with  loud  voices,  because  they  could  hear  them 
without  making  the  least  effort.  To  a  great  many  the  soft  and 
pathetic  style  of  preaching  had  a  peculiar  charm,  and  others 
were  carried  away  by  the  fiery  zeal  of  certain  would-be  re 
formers,  evangelists  and  come-outers.  We  had  a  great  many 
society  meetings  to  settle  this  one  or  that.  But  the  Parish 
never  could  come  to  an  agreement  respecting  any  one  of  the 
many  candidates  who  offered  themselves,  till  Mr.  Williams 
came.  By  the  good  providence  of  God  he  was  sent  here,  as 
it  seemed,  to  unite  us  as  the  heart  of  one  man,  to  put  an 
end  to  this  unceasing  turmoil,  and  recover  to  us  that  peace 
which  had  so  long  been  to  multitudes  the  object  of  earnest 
prayer  to  God.  A  divided  church,  a  pastorless  church  and 
society,  is  sure  to  go  down,  or  to  be  weak  for  Christ  and 
the  souls  of  men. 

I  remember  that  during  this  period,  there  were  incessant 
applications  for  the  pulpit.  Several  of  those  who  sent  word 
or  came  here,  were  introduced  by  neighboring  ministers, 
and  some  were  the  relations  of  certain  individuals  in  the 
church  or  society.  Of  course  all  these  must  be  heard, 
though  it  must  be  confessed  that  they  usually  gave  but  little 


30  PARISH -SIDE. 

satisfaction  to  the  people.  Yet  Deacon  John  Willard  was 
deeply  offended  because  the  committee  refused  to  engage 
his  nephew  a  second  Sabbath  !  Some  of  the  preachers  gave 
us  trouble.  They  came  in  and  boarded  in  the  place  and 
went  about  making  friends  in  the  Parish,  and  advertising 
their  own  merits  at  prayer  meetings  and  the  like,  after  the 
committee  had  declined  to  employ  them  further.  Others 
sent  a  great  many  complimentary  letters  to  particular  per 
sons,  and  represented  themselves  either  as  greatly  injured 
by  the  committee,  or  deeply  solicitous  for  the  good  of  the 
Parish.  There  were  several  who  came,  bearing  letters  of 
introduction  from  one  or  two  prominent  Doctors  of  Divin 
ity  abroad,  whose  great  names  were  secured  to  boulster  up 
their  own  little  ones.  We  frequently  had  three  or  four  fine 
looking  stranger  ministers  with  us  on  the  Sabbath,  who 
came,  and  finding  the  pulpit  engaged,  held  over  in  hopes  of 
securing  it  the  next  time.  It  would  seem  that  one  or  two 
clergymen  in  the  country,  residing,  I  know  not  how  far 
away,  knew  precisely  our  situation,  and  the  very  minister 
we  wanted.  They  accordingly  recommended  ten  or  twelve 
different  ones  of  the  required  piety  and  talents  !  I  remem 
ber  that  it  seemed  to  me  some  ministers  abroad  regarded 
themselves  as  the  tutelary  guardians  of  our  interests,  and  it 
was  a  very  pleasing  idea.  It  was  very  evident  that  wo 
should  not  suffer  if  it  lay  in  their  power  to  help  us.  Some 
of  the  introductory  letters  we  received  were  directed  to 
"  whomsoever  it  may  concern,"  and  so  forth,  being  appar 
ently  as  good  as  a  legal  instrument,  running  thus, — "  Know 


PAR  IS  II- SIDE.  31 

all  men  by  these  Presents."  These  papers,  in  some  in 
stances,  had  "  concerned"  a  good  many  different  Parishes, 
and  still  the  holders  presented  them. 

An  individual  who  possessed  a  tolerable  good  share  of 
ministerial  ability,  assured  us  that  he  had  preached  as  a  can 
didate  in  a  great  many  pulpits,  but  that  ho  had  never  re 
ceived  an  united  call  to  settle  any  where.  He  was  still 
"prospecting."  Several  came  in  among  us,  and  preached 
till  we  were  pleased  with  them,  when  they  withdrew  else 
where.  Such  persons  usually  found  fault  with  the  salary, 
and  the  location  of  the  town.  We  became  suspicious  of  all 
finally,  and  voted  to  make  the  supply  of  the  pulpit  a  matter 
of  special  earnest  prayer.  We  had  fallen  off  in  our  benev 
olent  contributions,  in  our  attendance  at  church  on  the  Sab 
bath,  and  on  the  church-meetings,  and  prayer-meetings. 
We  saw  this  at  last.  Ruin  seemed  before  us.  A  part  of 
the  Society  threatened  to  leave,  and  form  a  Methodist  So 
ciety  in  the  west  district.  Thus  matters  stood,  when  in  an 
swer  to  earnest  prayer,  as  we  think,  Mr.  Williams  was  sent 
among  us. 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

EDGEFIELD. 

THE  Connecticut  river  is,  at  Edgefield,  a  very  wide  and 
beautiful  stream,  flowing  gently  towards  the  sea,  without  a 
ripple,  and  so  tempting  forth  upon  it,  the  tiny  boats  that 
are  here  and  there  moored  along  its  gentle  banks,  or  held 
afloat  at  their  anchors.  In  the  spring  floods  the  waters  rise 
above  their  banks,  and  spread  far  over  the  meadows,  enrich 
ing  the  soil,  and  presenting  to  the  eye  a  wide  sheet  of  water} 
like  a  land-locked  lake.  And,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year, 
a  dense  mist  rises  along  the  whole  valley  of  the  stream,  and 
envelopes  the  immediate  country  on  both  sides  of  it,  so  that 
an  observer  on  the  hill  towns,  distant  ten  or  twelve  miles, 
can  trace  for  a  great  way  the  course  of  the  river,  and  yet  see 
no  object  within  the  limits  of  the  fog,  but  the  dark  summits 
of  the  mountains  that  rise  above  it,  and  seem  to  him  as 
islands  of  a  great  lake  or  of  the  sea. 

Just  above  the  high-water  mark,  the  village  of  Edgefield 
is  situated.  Its  main  street  is  in  a  north  and  south  line,  par 
allel  with  the  course  of  the  stream.  This  street  is  very 
wide,  and  on  the  west  side  of  it,  fronting  the  east,  is  the 


PARISH -SIDE.  33 

church.  Below  the  church  a  street  comes  in  from  the  west, 
and  passes  over  Main  Street,  and  leads  away  down,  by  sev 
eral  beautiful  windings  through  the  meadow,  to  the  ferry. 
And  across  the  ferry  is  the  large  town  of  Hunting.  And 
above  this,  about  five  miles  on  a  highland  where  the  church 
is  seen,  is  Surry.  And  there  a  Female  Seminary  of  world 
wide  reputation  is  situated,  and  hundreds  of  young  ladies 
are  there  educated.  These  go  forth  into  every  part  of  the 
land  as  teachers  and  wives,  and  goodly  daughters  of  science 
and  piety.  Nay,  many  go  from  this  renowned  institution 
into  the  most  distant  countries  of  the  earth,  among  the  bar 
barous  people  of  lands  unblest  with  the  gospel  institutions, 
to  reform  and  Christianize  them,  where,  alas !  many  die,  and 
return  no  more  to  the  homes  of  their  childhood. 

Above  the  church  a  little  way,  is  the  Academy ;  and  a 
few  rods  north  of  this  is  another  east  and  west  street ;  and 
further  on,  a  winding  road  from  West  Edgefield,  that  hits 
our  main  street  at  an  obtuse  angle,  and  upon  this  there  is  a 
large  grist  and  saw  mill  owned  by  Deacon  Willard.  It 
is  just  at  that  point  that  Cedar  Hill  Creek  makes  its  ap 
pearance  from  out  of  a  wild  and  romantic  ravine,  having 
had  a  "  rough-and-tumble"  course  of  twenty  miles  from  the 
mountains.  This  creek  then  wanders  on  behind  Cemetery 
Hill  to  its  junction  with  Rock  Brook,  a  large  stream  that 
flows  around  the  south  point  of  Peak  Ridge.  The  two,  there 
united,  flow  smoothly  on  towards  the  river,  crossing  Main 

Street  beneath  a  handsome,  arched  bridge,  a  little  below  the 
2* 


34  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

church.  Through  the  low  meadows  it  pursues  a  meandering 
course  to  the  main  stream. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  stream,  on  the  right  after  cross 
ing  the  bridge,  stands  the  PARSONAGE.  It  occupies  a  gentle- 
rise  of  ground,  and  is  shaded  and  embellished  as  we  have 
already  described.  Below  it,  on  either  side  of  Main  Street, 
as  far  down  as  the  great  oak  at  the  "  four  corners,"  are 
many  delightful  residences ;  and  there  are  a  good  many  fam 
ilies  in  the  street  next  to  the  Parsonage  on  the  south,  that 
leads  to  the  west. 

The  active  business  of  the  village  is  done  above  the 
bridge.  A  large  number  of  fine  dwellings  are  there,  inter 
spersed  among  stores,  shops,  and  offices.  The  Academy  is 
there,  so  also  the  principal  Hotel,  the  Blacksmith's  Shop,  the 
Furniture  Warehouse,  the  Carpenter's  Works,  Post-Office, 
Book  Store,  and  Reading-Rooms. 

That  the  principal  points  of  interest  in  the  village,  includ 
ing  many  of  the  private  residences,  may  be  represented  to 
the  eye  in  one  view,  I  have  drawn  a  ground  plan  of  the 
whole,  which  can  be  traced  at  leisure. 


PLAN    OF   EDGEFIELD. 


Page  35. 


CHAPTEK   VI. 

DEACON     HARTWELL     AND     OTHER     VILLAGERS. 

PERHAPS  you  would  like  to  know  something  about  tho 
people  of  Edgefield  Parish,  more  than  you  can  understand 
simply  by  the  mention  of  their  names.  I  will  then  describe 
a  part  of  them,  and  tell  you  where  they  live,  as  their  dwell 
ings  are  found  on  the  preceding  plan.  You  see  by  that 
where  the  church  is,  where  the  Academy  and  the  Parson 
age  are,  and  several  other  dwellings  and  objects  of  import 
ance.  Indeed,  a  large  part  of  the  buildings  and  places  are 
specified.  But  as  yet  you  do  not  know  the  peculiarities 
that  attach  to  the  inhabitants.  These  are  extremely  various. 
While  there  arc  but  few  foreigners  as  permanent  residents 
in  the  town,  there  are  many  persons  who  entertain  notions 
quite  foreign  to  one  another,  and  at  least  persons  whose 
business  and  modes  of  life  differ  very  widely  from  each 
other. 

Deacon  Hartwell  resided,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  in  the 
house  which  is  numbered  four  in  the  plan.  He  was  one  of 
the  old  inhabitants,  whose  noble  farm  of  two  hundred  acres 
was  the  pride  of  his  heart,  if  any  pride  he  allowed  in  it. 


36  PARISH -SIDE. 

He  was  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  and  an  active,  indus 
trious,  hale  man.  His  house  was  ever  open  to  friends  that 
visited  him,  or  called  on  him.  He  was  a  firm,  exemplary 
Christian,  and  many  a  one  will  forever  remember  his  faith 
fulness  with  gratitude  and  joy.  He  had  great  influence  in 
the  Parish,  and  especially  over  such  men  as  Esquire  Peters 
and  Dr.  Alexander,  two  of  the  best-educated  men  among  us, 
and  themselves  reciprocally  influential.  He  was  a  large 
man,  with  a  square-built  frame,  a  firm  and  rather  settled  and 
severe  countenance,  especially  against  all  folly,  but  express 
ive  of  truth,  of  kindness,  in  respect  to  goodness  and  honest 
virtuous  endeavors.  He  was  liberal  in  support  of  the  Par 
ish,  but  tljat  was  his  greatest  idol.  He  was  a  friend  to  all 
benevolent  objects  of  the  day,  but  if  he  pinched  any  way,  he 
always  contrived  that  the  Parish  should  not  suffer.  He  was 
willing  to  bear  a  good  part  of  the  duty  of  sustaining  prayer- 
meetings,  as  willing  to  listen  to  an  exhortation  as  to  give 
one,  yet  he  would  sometimes  grow  restive,  and  I  have  seen 
him  rise  with  a  dark  thunder  cloud  on  his  brow,  and  visit 
with  honest  indignation  some  luckless,  short-sighted  victim 
of  his  displeasure,  who  had  in  his  zeal  become  dogmatic,  or, 
perhaps,  simply  wandered  too  far  into  things  imagina 
tive  and  scriptureless.  The  deacon  was,  in  general,  mild, 
reasonable,  and  patient.  But  you  could  not  drive  him,  nor 
1)1  ind  him,  nor  coax  him.  He  held  to  reason  and  truth. 
Himself  obedient  to  every  just  precept,  he  could  see  no 
virtue  in  others  who  sought  by  some  device  to  escape  from 
duty,  and  to  conceal  the  truth.  It  is  said  of  him  that  on  one 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  37 

occasion,  having  tried  every  reasonable  way  to  make  a 
vicious  horse  he  owned  go  forward,  and  it  still  refusing,  that 
he  drew  his  gigantic  fist  upon  him,  and  so  dexterously 
struck  a  blow  under  the  ear,  as  to  prostrate  him  to  the  earth 
in  a  moment,  after  which  the  animal  rose,  shook  himself, 
and  went  forward  as  directed.  He  believed  that  all  the 
members  of  the  Parish  were  bound  to  pay  something  to 
support  the  gospel.  He  would  by  no  means  excuse  the 
Widow  Hill,  who  had  quite  a  property,  and  was  a  member 
of  the  church,  although  she  availed  herself  of  a  legal  techni 
cality  in  the  case  of  widows,  and  sought  to  avoid  the  moral 
and  memberly  duty.  Nor  would  he  listen  to  Miss  Wealthy 
Scribner's  plea  that  she  was  unmarried,  and  possessed  of 
small  means.  He  contended  that  all  the  property  in  the 
society  should  be  held  under  the  same  obligation.  Whether 
one  were  rich  or  poor,  married  or  single,  he  should  feel  the 
duty,  and  besides  feeling,  he  should  DO.  Accordingly,  the 
Committee  of  the  Parish,  and  the  people,  though  frequently 
disappointed,  were  not  much  surprised  that  the  deacon 
should  head  the  subscription  for  the  salary  with  fifty  dol 
lars,  when  they  thought  he  would,  and  ought  to,  put  down 
sixty.  But  the  deacon  always  said,  "You  must  go  to 
everybody,  make  each  one  subscribe  something  ; .  it  is  the 
only  true,  and,  indeed,  the  only  benevolent  course.  What 
costs  nothing,  is  nothing  valued." 

The  Committee  came  back  to  him  once,  and  said  that 
John  Smith  the  shoemaker,  who  had  usually  subscribed 


gg  PARISH-SIDE. 

three  dollars,  refused  to  give  over  one,  on  account  of  the 

deacon  giving  below  his  average. 

Wohn  Smith,"  said  the  deacon,  "to  satisfy  Ins  own 
eonscienee,  and  let  my  duty  alone."  When  the  Co—  * 
told  John  Smith  what  the  deacon  had  «id,  b»  hand  trem- 
«rf  as  he  took  the  pen  and  wrote  down  *»  doHars.  At 
terwards,  when  John  Smith  fell  sick,  and  was  tad  by  f  om 
work  four  or  five  weeks,  the  deacon  sent  him  a  presei 


was  a  My  of  the  most  benevolent  and 
amiable  character  in  the  world.     She  was  a  real  Chnston, 


too;  I  doubt  whether  the  >™*., 

woman  ;  and  she  had  a  winning  way  wrth  her.     I  flunk 
was  natural  to  her  to  be  good,  for  I  have  observed  that  she 
was  just  as  kind  in  her  tones  of  voice  to  a  poor  workman, 
or  4-  -en,  as  to  a  visitor,  or  a  rich  and  great  man. 
She  was  an  exceedingly  industrious  woman,  and  had  a  pa 
Ll  oversight  of  her  family  and  work.     Her  house  was  a 
raode.l  of  neatness  and  order,  notwithstanding  the  busmess 
of  Deacon  Hartwell  necessarily  drew  around  him  a  g» 
roany  persons,  some  of  them  not  the  most  neat  in  respect 
Tf  Janners  and  dres,     I  never  saw  her  in  a  flurry,  though 
often  in  haste  and  hurry.     She   turned  off  her  work  as 
sweetly  as  her  periods,  and  if  a  stranger  or  a  nend  c^le  , 
she  was  >eady  to  see  him  almost  immed.ately.     She  die 
not  require  fifteen,  twenty,  or  thirty  minutes  to  arrange  her 
toilette  and  room,  but  being  always  in  a  "Vf*>*£** 
reasonable  and  respectable  people  were  sat.sf.ed.    Though 


PA  II  IS  II -SIDE. 


both  she  and  her  husband  were  truly  hospitable,  and  kept 
a  room  on  purpose  to  accommodate  ministers  or  other  good 
persons  who  might  call  on  them  and  desire  the  shelter  of 
their  roof  for  a  night,  yet  they  were  seldom  imposed  upon. 
Their  carriage,  though  easy,  frank,  and  polite,  was  also  dig 
nified,  and  kept  at  a  proper  distance  persons  who  were  too 
officious  or  presuming.  Their  children  were  Wilder,  John, 
Angeline,  and  Jonas. 

Angeline  was  a  bright,  gay,  intelligent  young  lady,  who 
seemed  to  know  everything,  and  could  do  everything  but 
sing.  The  deacon  was  no  singer,  but  Jonas  was  a  musi- 
cian,  and  very  fond  of  his  flute.  Wilder  the  elder,  who 
was  married,  and  lived  in  the  village  at  number  eighteen, 
having  a  large  meadow  farm  on  the  east  of  his  house,  was 
also  fond  of  music.  Angeline  sat  with  her  father  and 
mother  in  the  family  slip  at  church.  Wilder  and  Jonas 
belonged  to  the  choir.  Jonas  played  the  flute,  while  Wilder 
sang  bass.  Angeline  was  beautiful,  and  tall,  and  fascinat 
ing,  but  at  nineteen  she  was  entirely  free  from  any  engage 
ment,  and  none  of  the  young  men  of  Edgefield  seemed  at 
all  likely  to  carry  her  off.  Jonas  was  something  of  a  dash 
ing  young  blade,  and  often  gallanted  the  young  ladies  to 
singing-schools,  sewing-societies,  and  so  forth,  and  some  of 
the  more  sober  of  the  old  people  thought  that  he  was  a  little 
too  wild  for  a  son  of  Deacon  Hartwell.  Wilder  was,  un 
fortunately,  rather  a  selfish  and  close  man.  lie  was  neither 
a  very  bad  man,  nor  a  very  good  one.  He  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  money,  and  put  off  religion  to  acquire  riches.  But 


40  PARIS  II  -SIDE. 

everybody  said  he  never  would  make  good  the  deacon's 
place.  John  resided  in  the  State  of  New  York,  and  was 
highly  respected  as  an  intelligent  farmer.  There  were  not 
a  few  who  said  :  "  We  must  get  all  we  can  out  of  the  dea 
con  while  he  lives,  for  the  society  will  suffer  if  Wilder  gets 
the  money;  and  Jonas  is  a  rattle-headed  boy, — we  don't 
know  what  he  will  do." 

Dr.  Alexander's  house  is  number  sixteen.  The  doctor 
was  a  little  past  the  meridian  of  life,  but  not  at  all  disquali 
fied  for  his  professional  practice  or  study.  He  was  a  man 
of  much  personal  dignity,  but  easily  unbent,  and  threw 
around  him  a  great  charm  by  his  familiar  conversation  and 
instructive  remarks  on  all  subjects.  He  began  life  with  the 
elementary  law  studies,  but  having  broken  his  arm  by  a 
fall,  and  being  otherwise  afflicted  for  the  whole  of  one  win 
ter,  he  was  so  much  pleased  with  the  attention  of  his  phy 
sician,  and  so  observant  of  his  practice,  and  entertained 
such  kind  sentiments  towards  him  for  his  own  recovery,  that 
he  altered  his  purpose  and  began  to  study  medicine.  He 
was  known  by  everybody  in  town,  and  it  would  almost 
seem,  out  of  town.  He  was  highly  respected  by  his  fellow 
physicians,  and  had  a  large  and  eminently  successful  prac 
tice.  He  was  a  consistent,  family-altar,  praying  Christian. 
One  of  the  best  and  most  intelligent  men  of  Edgefield,  and 
yet  he  never  could  obtain  the  vote  of  the  town  to  represent 
it  in  the  General  Assembly.  He  was  everything  else,  com 
mittee-man,  school  examiner,  temperance  delegate,  referee 
in  important  disputes  ;  this  he  never  could  carry.  The  best 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  41 

off-hand  speaker  in  town,  with  a  clear  idea  of  things ;  the 
man  to  give  the  town  honor  in  the  Legislature ;  yet  Henry 
Billings,  the  blacksmith,  who  lived  at  number  thirty-six,  and 
was  rather  a  hard  drinker,  or  John  Evans,  a  noisy  politi 
cian,  with  a  blustering  manner  in  everything,  residing  at 
number  thirteen,  or  farmer  Stratton,  a  plain  and  quite  re 
spectable  man,  who  resided  over  the  creek  at  number  nine 
teen,  would  always  throw  him  out  of  an  election.  So  the 
Doctor  staid  at  home.  He  had  considerable  property,  and 
great  taste  for  pomology,  horticulture,  and  gardening  in 
general.  There  was  no  more  genial  atmosphere  where  a 
friend  sat  down,  than  in  his  house ;  no  place  where  the 
hours  were  better  spent,  for  he  was  instructive  in  his  dis 
course,  and  religiously  inclined  at  all  times.  If  his  practice 
ever  suffered  in  a  rivalry  with  brother  practitioners,  it  was  as 
much  owing  to  his  own  neglect  as  to  their  skill  and  success, 
for  he  would  occasionally  devote  more  time  to  study,  theory, 
conversation,  and  even  to  horticulture,  and  to  society  affairs 
in  general,  than  was  consistent  with  an  uninterrupted  pro 
fessional  popularity.  But  the  doctor's  failings,  like  some 
other  men's  virtues,  were  the  least  conspicuous  traits  in  his 
character  and  daily  life.  Mrs.  Alexander  was  everything 
affectionate,  kind  and  intelligent,  a  real  help-meet  for  her 
husband,  with  whom,  for  more  than  forty  years,  she  had 
pursued  the  paths  of  life,  cheering  him  in  adversity,  and  re 
joicing  with  him  in  his  successes  and  prosperity.  Three 
lovely  boys,  six,  ten,  and  fifteen  years  of  age,  they  had  follow 
ed  to  their  graves,  in  our  secluded  and  peaceful  cemetery  in 


42  PARISH- SIDE. 

the  grounds  covered  with  oaks  and  pines,  tbc.t  r'.^e  high  abov« 
the  village,  in  the  rear  of  the  church,  Thsy  Iiad  left  them 
but  one  son,  a  young  man  of  feeble  health,  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  and  who,  having  fmJshed  an  Academical  course 
was  now,  with  a  devotion  tha^  separated  him  almost  wholly 
from  society,  pursuing  mecJicul  studies  at  the  University 
One  widowed  daughter  resided  with  them.  She  \\jas,  in  wi', 
in  memory,  in  legendary  lore,  in  the  recital  and  love  of 
poetry,  in  daring,  in  the  love  of  her  friends,  in  literary 
criticisms,  is  her  love  of  the  past,  and  fondness  for  nature 
and  study  of  character,  her  father's  exact  duplicate.  With 
him  she  delighted  to  rove,  to  climb  the  mountains,  to  visit 
the  distant  metropolis,  to  trim  the  garden  and  the  shrubbery 
walks  and  grounds,  to  read,  to  converse,  to  sympathize,  to 
pray.  She  was  a  pious,  earnest,  helpful  Christian,  laborious 
on  the  Sabbath  in  the  pleasing  task  of  the  Sunday  school, 
and  bountiful  in  her  charities.  Early  left  a  widow,  but 
seemingly  above  all  human  weakness,  she  wept,  if  at  all, 
with  her  fatherless  children,  before  God  in  secret.  She 
knew  the  w^ay  to  a  sufferer's  heart,  and  many,  who  from  her 
public  manner  thought  her  wanting  in  the  gentleness  of 
woman,  found,  when  illness  or  misfortune  opened  an  avenue 
for  her  nature  to  reveal  itself,  that  she  was  a  true  daughter 
of  womanly  affections  and  grace. 

On  C  street  no  one  lived  between  Main  street  and  the 
river  ferry-house,  number  forty-one,  on  account  of  the  high 
water  in  flood  time.  So  on  B  street.  The  ferry-house  is 
number  forty.  There  was  a  cluster  of  houses  on  C  street 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  43 

west  of  Main,  where  a  large  furnace  establishment  owned 
by  Jones  &  -Wilcox  was  situated  on  the  Creek,  number 
twenty-nine.  Mr.  Jones  lived  in  a  picturesque  and  rather 
handsome  cottage  at  number  twelve,  a  littkj  retired  from 
the  street  in  a  pleasant  grove.  Mr.  Wilcox  at  number 
twenty-six.  They  employed  fifty  or  sixty  men,  and  were 
considered  wealthy.  The  Post-Office  was  at  number  four 
teen.  My  house  number  seven,  and  Mrs.  Herricks  was  op 
posite.  Between  the  church  and  the  Academy  there  were 
two  or  three  stores  besides  Dr.  Alexander's  house.  The 
large  Hotel  of  the  village  was  number  seventeen.  John 
Smith  occupied  a  small  shop  numbered  twenty.  He  made 
and  repaired  shoes  for  his  whole  living,  and  was  a  useful 
character  in  the  village.  But  he  had  successively  changed 
from  one  political  party  to  another,  from  one  ism  to  another, 
from  one  newspaper  to  another,  from  one  store  to  another, 
from  one  religious  denomination  to  another,  until  he  had 
given  permanency  to  the  following  phrase  in  Edgcfield,  "  as 
firm  as  John  Smith."  John  was  a  light-built,  smokey  faced, 
sharp  featured  man,  with  small  eyes  sunk  back  in  his  head  ; 
he  had  a  sharp-keyed  voice,  and  a  great  flow  of  words,  and 
his  shop  was  a  perpetual  talking  gallery  of  politics,  religion 
and  gossip.  When  he  walked  abroad,  his  hands  were  al 
ways  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets,  and  his  face  considerably 
inclined  to  the  ground.  But  he  was  now  more  fixed  than 
usual  in  his  religious  creed,  believing  in  Saints  Perseverance 
and  Election, "  TOTO  CCELO,"  and  said  he  would  die,  if  ii  <*ere 
necessary,  for  our  minister,  Mr.  Williams. 


44  P  A  11 1  8  II  -  S  I  D  E  . 

Number  one  is  the  Congregational  church.  Number  two 
is  the  Academy.  Number  fifteen  is  the  cemetery.  Esquire 
Peters  lived  at  number  twenty-seven,  in  a  rich  house,  with 
ample  grounds,  very  tastefully  laid  out.  His  wife  was  a 
New  York  lady,  and  frequently  the  house  was  full  of  New 
York  friends.  When  these  family  city  friends  arrived,  then 
there  was  great  romping  over  the  village  and  shouting  in 
the  fields  and  groves.  This  was  a  happy  and  good  family, 
though  Esquire  Peters  was  more  for  business  and  hard 
work,  Mrs.  Peters  for  show  and  pleasure.  They  had  seve 
ral  well-educated  and  agreeable  children.  Mrs.  Burgess,  a 
valuable  lady,  a  widow  sixty  years  old  with  one  daughter 
unmarried,  resided  at  number  eight ;  a  married  son  at  num 
ber  ten ;  a  daughter  at  twenty-three.  There  was  a  cluster 
of  houses  at  the  great  oak  four  corners ;  a  store,  a  shop, 
and  a  small  hotel.  There  was  another  cluster  at  the  factory 
works,  number  thirty-seven,  on  B  street,  owned  by  Marcus 
Street  &  Son,  who  resided  at  number  eleven,  and  employed 
forty  or  fifty  workmen.  At  number  nine  there  dwelt  two 
elderly  unmarried  sisters  by  the  name  of  Breakwell,  who 
were  first  and  foremost  in  every  good  work.  They  were 
very  tall  and  rather  delicate  ladies,  becomingly,  and  I  may 
say,  genteelly  dressed  at  all  times,  with  pale,  though  very 
cheerful  countenances.  They  were  indefatigable  readers  of 
history.  They  devoured  Hume,  and  Gibbon,  and  Rollin, 
and  Goldsmith,  and  Smollet,  and  everything  reliable  among 
the  more  modern.  They  never  closed  a  book  till  midnight 
from  any  yieldings  to  weariness,  or  considerations  of  the 


MIDNIGHT    READINGS. 


Page  44. 


P  A  II I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E  .  45 

morrow.  Though  neither  was  handsome,  the  elder  was  as 
good  looking  as  the  younger,  and  although  neither  of  them 
was  married,  the  elder  had  the  same  opportunity  as  the 
younger,  both  having,  for  the  same  reasons,  declined  the 
same  individual.  The  Sunday  never  came  with  heat  or 
cold,  with  rain  or  snow,  when  they  were  absent  from  the 
church.  Thev  only  brother  was  a  short,  thick-set,  jovial 
bachelor  of  forty-five,  who  was  the  town  surveyor.  As 
their  parents  were  dead,  they  all  lived  with  a  venerable 
widowed  aunt,  a  person  of  great  practical  knowledge  of  the 
world,  by  whom  they  were  much  better  cared  for,  than  they 
would  have  been  if  left  to  themselves.  A  great  many 
excellent  families,  and  some  rather  singular  ones,  lived  along 
the  street  north  and  south  of  the  Parsonage,  and  westerly, 
outside  of  our  chart.  An  interesting  young  couple  resided 
at  number  six ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sweetser.  Mrs.  Sweetser 
was  much  attached  to  her  young  family  of  children,  and 
seldom  went  abroad,  and  Mr.  Sweetser  was  a  hard-working, 
plain,  but  very  intelligent  farmer,  who  was  anxious  to  pay 
for  his  place,  and  was  constantly  at  home  ploughing,  plant 
ing,  carting,  hoeing,  blasting  rocks  from  his  meadows,  and 
the  like.  In  the  winter  he,  several  times,  kept  the  village 
school  in  his  district.  Their  house  was  retired,  but  it  occu 
pied  a  very  pleasant  site,  and  was  much  visited  by  the  vil 
lagers.  In  summer  and  autumn  what  delicious  cherries, 
pears,  apples  and  peaches  grew  there!  They  were  very 
quiet  and  plain  people,  but  none  lived  in  Edgcfield  who 
were  more  esteemed,  or  who  were  more  worthy.  Mr. 


46  P  A  R  I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E  . 

Sweetser  was  the  son  of  an  intelligent  farmer,  who  also  was 
a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  the  first  his  inheritance,  the  second 
his  acquisition.  He  brought  up  his  family  in  the  highest 
degree  moral  and  religious,  and  taught  them  by  his  own  ex 
ample,  in  his  trials  and  sore  bereavements,  to  confide  their 
all  in  God.  Young  Mr.  Sweetser  was  a  man  of  a  large,  or 
rather  tall  and  strong  frame,  but  with  all  his  sedateness  and 
reserve  of  manner,  amounting  to  an  uniformal  but-  happy 
dignity,  he  wore  a  pleasing,  approachable  countenance,  and 
was  a  man  of  a  very  cheerful,  hopeful,  Christian  heart.  His 
children  obeyed  him.  His  wife  loved  and  reverenced  him. 

The  Methodist  church  is  number  Jive  on  the  plain,  ap 
proached  from  C  street.  The  winding  course  of  Cedar  Hill 
Creek,  as  it  is  laid  down  in  the  plan,  was  caused  by  a  ridge 
of  high  hills  on  its  eastern  side  to  the  junction  at  thirty. 
Mr.  Irvings  resided  at  number  twenty-one.  Mr.  Simonds  at 
twenty-two.  Miss  Wealthy  Scribner  at  thirty-one.  At  num 
ber  thirty-two  was  the  small  cottage  of  the  Sexton.  At 
thirty-three  was  Captain  Abram's  residence,  the  pious  octoge 
narian.  At  thirty-four  Deacon  Willard's  mills,  and  house. 
The  store  of  Colonel  Arrs  was  at  thirty -Jive. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

SHUUSBEXY      FESTIVAL. 

PARSONAGE  property,  as  such,  is  very  apt  to  deteriorate 
in  value,  and  it  is  a  reasonable  cause  of  satisfaction  to  the 
Parish,  if  the  occupant  be  a  man  who  will  take  the  proper 
care  of  it.  Societies  most  unfrequently  regret,  in  the  course 
of  time,  the  purchase  of  such  property.  If  they  were  al 
ways  sure  of  the  right  sort  of  men  to  take  the  care  of  the 
Buildings  and  other  premises  they  would  almost  uniformly 
prefer  to  own  a  parsonage,  because  the  subject  of  a  place 
for  the  minister  to  live,  is  then  settled  in  two  or  three  re 
spects,  viz. :  as  to  the  questions,  "  can  he  live  anywhere  T' 
u  can  lie  live  in  a  central  place  ?"  If  not  "  in  a  central 
place"  will  the  parish  be  satisfied  ?  If  the  people  decide  to 
build  a  parsonage  and  to  locate  it  in  a  certain  position,  they 
are  afterwards  satisfied  on  that  point.  But  it  frequently 
happens  that  where  the  minister  is  obliged  to  hire  a  dwell 
ing  house,  he  cannot  procure  one  that  is  centrally  located, 
and  if  the  people  have  a  tendency  that  way,  it  is  easy 
to  speak  about  it,  if  he  locates  himself  rather  more  to  the 
south  of  the  Parish  than  to  the  north.  The  Rev.  Mr. 


48 


P  A  11  I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E . 


,  hired  a  house  on  the  top  of  a  long  steep  hill      T1.- 

people  said  he  did  it  to  avoid  being  called  on,  and  the'T  re 
fused  to  visit  him.  By-and-bye  he  was  dismissed.  The 

Rev.  Mr. ,  hired  a  house  a  mile  out  of  the  centre,  on  a 

poorly-worked  and  crooked  road,  he  said,  for  the  greater 
comfort  in  meditation  and  study,  but  the  people  said,  to 
have  an  excuse  for  neglect.  These  complaints  were  especial 
ly  raised  by  those  who  lived  at  the  greatest  distance  from 
him,  or  were  the  least  able  to  climb  hills.  The  Eev.  Mr. 

,  preached  in  one  town  and  hired  his  house  in  another, 

because  he  found  it  absolutely  impossible  to  rent  one  in  his 
own  Parish.  Now,  it  is  for  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the 
Society  to  own  a  Parsonage,  and  yet  it  is  property  which 
is  not  always  the  most  lucrative. 

Our  Parsonage  has  been  twice  much  injured  by  fire,  in 
consequence  of  the  carelessness  of  servants.  It  has  some 
times  been  occupied  by  a  minister  with  a  large  family  of 
rather  wild  boys  and  girls,  who  have  in  their  noisy  gambols, 
and  hard  sports,  broken  in  the  walls  of  the  rooms,  hacked 
the  doors  and  window-casings  with  their  hatchets  and  knives, 
shattered  the  glass,  soiled  the  paper,  and  oiled  the  floors. 
It  will  sometimes  happen  that  it  is  occupied  by  a  minister 
who  don't  want  any  trouble  of  the  premises  on  his  mind, 
and  says  it  is  a  poor  Parsonage,  manse  and  glebe,  that  can't 
take  care  of  itself.  Under  his  administration  the  fences  fall, 
the  unruly  cattle  make  a  range  of  plonghland  and  meadow, 
as  well  as  of  the  pastures  ;  the  shrub-oaks,  and  alders,  and 
laurel,  overspread  the  land,  and  unless  the  Parish  directly 


f  A  R  I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E .  41) 

inlcrfores,  the  place  would  soon  be  rendered  worthless. 
There  arc  ministers  who  delight  to  cultivate  various  fruits, 
and  so  take  much  pains  to  graft  the  trees,  and  to  procure  new 
ones,  and  keep  the  fruit  orchards  in  a  good  state — who  take 
pleasure  in  gardening  and  in  horticulture  generally,  but  a 
good  many  seem  to  have  little  if  any  regard  for  these  things, 
at  least  not  enough  to  be  at  any  private  expense  to  keep  the 
place  even  as  good  as  they  found  it.  But  a  Parsonage  is  built 
and  owned  for  the  Brotherhood.  Why  should  not  the  pres 
ent  occupant  have  some  wish  to  place  it  in  a  state  that  will 
be  agreeable  to  him  who  shall  succeed  him  ?  Why  not  will 
ingly  contribute  his  share  of  the  labor  and  money  that  may 
be  necessary  to  make  it  a  sweet  retreat,  an  inviting  Para 
dise  of  green,  and  beauty,  and  love,  to  him  that  shall  after 
wards  go  there  for  repose  from  the  labors  of  the  Parish  ? 
The  people,  I  say,  regard  it  as  a  great  gain  to  them  if  the 
minister  has  some  common  sense  in  these  matters,  and  is 
neither  unwilling  nor  afraid  to  manifest  it  by  some  daily  at 
tention  to  their  property  in  his  charge.  If  they  see  this, 
they  are  very  apt,  I  find,  to  assist  him,  and  make  his  labors 
as  light  as  possible,  and  to  take  a  pride  in  keeping  the  place 
both  comfortable  and  inviting.  But  when  our  minister,  the 
Rev.  Mr. ,  neglected  the  Parsonage  till  it  was  a  wilder 
ness-farm,  a  paper-windowed  manse,  and  a  weed-o'er-grown 
garden,  there  was  not  a  person  to  be  found  who  would  move 
ji  finger  to  repair  any  part  of  it,  or  to  carry  him  a  single 
choice  tree  for  the  orchards,  or  plants  for  the  garden. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  show  so  much  taste  in  all  their 
3 


60  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

*rrar/-y7,ents,  and  so  much  attention  to  the  garden,  and  so 
siuch  interest  in  pomology,  and  such  a  true  passion  for  the 
beautiful  in  nature  and  art,  that  our  Parish  people  have 
been  quite  aroused  to  the  improvement  of  the  Parsonage. 
Mr.  Williams,  with  thick  gloves  on  his  hands,  prunes  the 
orchard,  or  he  plants  choice  trees,  or  he  builds  an  arbor  and 
trains  his  vines.  He,  with  the  advice,  and  according  to  the 
wishes  of  his  wife,  forms  new  plans  for  the  garden,  its  bor 
ders,  its  mounds,  its  walks,  its  beds,  its  fruits.  He  suffers 
no  gates  to  swing  open  to  the  highway,  for  unruly  cattle  to 
throng  in  and  rush  to  his  meadows  and  fields.  He  plants 
his  fields  with  the  greatest  care,  and  in  good  season.  He 
hires  men  to  assist  him,  and  pays  them  their  charges  with 
out  grumbling  against  the  Parish. 

Never  was  there  a  more  agreeable  party  assembled  at 
the  Parsonage,  than  the  one  I  saw  there  in  May  following 
Mrs.  Williams  coming  here.  By  agreement  there  were 
twenty  or  thirty  young  ladies  together,  with  choicest  roots 
and  plants  from  their  own  gardens  and  plant-nurseries,  in 
stout  gloves,  with  trowels  and  small  rakes  and  spades,  to 
fill  up  Mrs.  Williams'  flower  borders,  and  help  her  dress 
them.  And  many  little  boys  and  girls  were  there,  and 
several  of  our  young  gentlemen,  and  a  few  of  the  elder 
people. 

Mrs.  Williams  was  appointed  chief  directress  of  the  gar 
den,  and  Mr.  Williams  general  overseer.  The  elderly  gen 
tlemen  and  the  more  athletic  young  men,  were  appointed 
committee,  on  trees.  The  elderly  ladies  committee  on  con- 


PARISH-SIDE.  51 

sultation,  and  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen,  not  other 
wise  designated,  committee  on  borders,  and  plants.  The 
boys  were  a  committee  on  bonfires  and  wheel-barrows,  the 
girls,  on  little  baskets  and  holding  plants  and  seeds. 

A  merry,  merry  May-day  time  it  was,  and  as  profitable 
as  cheerful  and  gay.  The  sun  gladdened  them  with  his 
liveliest  beams,  the  earth  was  in  a  proper  state  for  the  work, 
the  time  of  the  spring  appropriate  to  the  plants  and  seeds. 
The  garden  looked  sweetly  at  sundown,  so  smooth,  so  new, 
so  dark  and  rich ;  so  tastefully  laid  out,  with  its  broad  main 
circle,  leading  to  the  pool,  its  curving  walks  to  the  arbors, 
its  mounds  surmounted  with  urns,  and  its  large  heads  of 
splendid  box  along  the  entrance  aisle. 

Several  apple,  pear,  peach,  and  plum  trees  of  rare  fruit 
were  brought,  and  under  Mr.  Williams'  directions,  were  set 
out  in  the  ground.  May  they  long  live  and  thrive  for  the 
enjoyment  of  the  pastor,  and  for  the  good  of  all  who  shall 
come  after  him. 

The  ladies  having  brought  with  them  several  baskets  of 
refreshments  for  tea,  when  the  work  was  as  far  advanced  as 
the  day  would  allow,  they  resolved  themselves  into  a  com 
mittee  for  the  whole,  and  having  spread  out  the  tables  in  a 
most  attractive  manner  in  Mr.  Williams'  large  dining-room, 
the  gentlemen  were  most  of  them  easily  persuaded  to  take 
tea  before  they  left. 

From  one  period  to  another  since  that  time,  similar  gath 
erings  have  taken  place  there,  and  quite  a  desire  is  expressed 
among  the  Parish  people,  who  have  any  taste  for  these 


52  PARISH -SIDE. 

things,  to  have  an  invitation  to  the  Shrubbery  Festival  at 
the  Parsonage. 

We  doubt  whether  there  is  in  New  England  a  more 
agreeable  Parsonage,  manse  and  glebe,  than  ours.  The 
house  is  large,  the  rooms  are  warm  and  well  arranged,  and 
are  kept  in  good  repair.  The  yards  and  garden-grounds  are 
richly  ornamented  with  trees,  shrubbery,  and  plants.  The 
farm-lots  are  ample  and  productive. 

If  we  can  be  sure  of  their  good  occupancy,  the  Parish 
will  make  all  reasonable  sacrifices  to  keep  the  house  and 
lands  in  the  same  state  as  now,  rather  improving  than 
suffering  them  to  decline. 


CHAPTEK   VIII. 

A    SCENE     AT     THE     PARSONAGE. 

IT  was  in  this  village  of  industry,  of  singular  order  and 
beauty,  among  a  people  of  true  piety  and  considerable  in 
telligence,  that  Mr.  Williams  our  pastor  was,  by  the  Provi 
dence  of  God,  placed.  Mrs.  Williams  soon  made  it  mani 
fest  to  the  people,  that  she  was  a  person  in  many  respects 
eminently  qualified  to  assist  our  pastor  in  his  great  and  ar 
duous  labors,  and  to  do  great  good  in  her  position.  She  was 
not  forward  in  the  pursuit  of  society,  and  at  the  same  time 
she  did  not  avoid  an  acquaintance,  nor  shrink  from  reason 
able  duties.  Soon  after  she  came,  an  elder  sister  followed 
her,  and  consented  to  stay  for  a  time  and  assist  in  the  care 
of  her  family  and  house.  This  was  a  great  help  to  Mrs. 
Williams,  as  she  was  enabled  to  give  more  of  her  time  to 
cultivating  an  acquaintance  with  the  Parish.  Miss  Martha, 
the  sister,  possessed  a  retiring  disposition,  and  nothing  gave 
her  more  pleasure  than  to  contribute  to  her  sister's  happi 
ness  and  usefulness.  I  have  often  thought,  when  passing  an 
hour  in  the  evening  in  their  society,  Mr.  Williams  having 
finished  the  important  and  perhaps  laborious  duties  of  the 


54  P  A  R-I  6  II  -  S  I  D  E . 

day,  and  seated  himself  with  them,  his  book  or  paper  in 
hand  to  read  to  them,  while  his  wife  plied  the  noiseless 
needle,  and  the  elder  sister  with  her  rocker  in  a  favorite 
corner,  sat  in  a  listening  attitude,  with  suspended  knitting, 
and  occasional  remark  of  quaint  good  humor  and  sense,  that 
they  were  not  only  a  truly  happy  family  in  themselves,  but 
a  blessing  to  the  place  as  an  example  of  household  life.  Mr. 
Williams  had  enough  to  do  for  any  man,  of  whatever 
strength  or  genius.  His  work,  Oh !  what  a  great  and  heaven- 
appointed  employment,  never  done  ;  never  came  the  time 
when  he  could  say  "  it  is  finished" — "  I  have  done  all  that 
which  thou  gavest  me  to  do."  But  his  duty  remained  to 
watch  for  souls.  One  soul,  if  converted,  would  fill  heaven 
with  praise ;  one  soul,  if  lost,  would  add  to  the  eternal  wail- 
ings  of  the  pit.  One  soul,  if  saved,  would  help  to  augment 
the  number  around  the  throne  of  the  Kedeemer ;  one  soul, 
if  lost,  would  lead  others  to  the  world  of  despair.  Mr. 
Williams  felt  the  great  need  of  faithfulness.  He  prayed  for 
a  right  heart.  He  besought  God's  aid  in  his  labors  ;  and 
that  he  might  not  stand  in  the  way  of  a  blessing,  he  renew- 
edly  gave  himself  and  all  he  had  to  the  Saviour.  He  was 
devoted  to  his  study  as  his  time  and  strength  would  permit. 
He  called  abroad  upon  his  people,  and  performed  all  the 
duties  that,  as  a  pastor,  devolved  on  him.  But  in  these,  no 
more  than  in  his  household  life,  did  he  set  forth  a  worthy 
blameless  example.  His  house  was  a  well-arranged,  indus 
trious,  intelligent,  sacred  house.  It  was  his  usual  custom  to 
attend  his  evening  devotions  immediately  after  tea,  and  sel- 


PAR  I  S.II-SIDE.  55 

dom  did  ho  allow  the  presence  of  any  company,  or  the 
pressure  of  any  business,  to  interfere  with  this  solemn  house 
hold  act. 

Occasionally  I  was  present  (either  having  taken  tea  with 
the  family,  or  on  business  of  some  sort  with  Mr.  Williams) 
at  the  hour  of  devotions  ;  and  every  such  scene  remembered, 
is  fresh  and  pleasing  to-day  as  at  the  time.  Once  I  called 
to  confer  with  the  pastor  on  the  propriety  of  helping  the 
young  family  of  Hiram  Willys,  the  lawyer,  who  had  by 
intemperance,  reduced  himself  and  them  to  great  poverty. 
His  wife  we  all  thought  was  a  pious  woman,  although  she 
did  not  belong  to  the  church. 

Waiting  a  moment  in  the  sitting-room  with  Mr.  Wil 
liams,  till  his  wife  came  in,  (I  thought,  it  is  true,  that  I  hur 
ried  the  minister  from  his  supper,)  I  said,  "  And  what  shall 
be  done  for  this  family — they  ought  not  to  suffer  for  Hiram's 
intemperance." 

"  They  are  entitled,"  said  he,  "  to  our  sympathy  and  as 
sistance.  We  can  do  something  for  them  by  prayer.  But 
we  must  also  give  them  clothing,  protection,  food." 

"  Willys  is  himself  a  vagabond,"  said  I,  "a  useless,  pro 
fane,  idle,  vulgar  fellow.  It  is  of  no  use,  or  very  littlo, 
longer  to  attempt  anything  for  him,  but  I  agree  with  you 
that  the  family  must  have  something  done  for  them." 
.  "  Let  us  not  despair  of  him"  said  he.  " Many  a  poor 
fellow  like  him  has  been  reclaimed.  And  who  is  at  liberty 
to  set  bounds  to  the  grace  of  God  ?  He  knows,  he  sees  his 


56 


PARIS  II -SIDE. 


case.     And  to  save  guilty  creatures,  even  such  as  he — such 
as  he,  CHRIST  DIED." 

"  I  grant  it,  Sir,  but  he  has  been  thrice  to  jail  already  on 
complaint,  and  he  has  broken  all  his  pledges,  and  seems  to 
be  incorrigible.  If  you  give  garments  to  the  family,  or 
food,  he  will  sell  them,  as  he  will  the  Bible  itself,  for  rum. 
He  is,  in  my  opinion,  almost  hopeless." 
"  Can  you  not  pray  for  him  ]" 
"  Hardly,  hardly,  Sir,  the  prayer  of  faith." 
"  But  what  says  the  Scripture  1  Pray  in  faith,  ask  in 
faith,  nothing  doubting.  Pray  always,  and  not  faint.  Be 
sides,  what  were  we  ourselves  but  for  the  mercy  of  God  ?" 
A  loud  knocking  at  the  door  interrupted  us.  Mrs. 
Williams  and  her  sister  came  in  rather  hurriedly,  and 
politely  bowing  to  me,  spoke  to  Mr.  Williams  to  hasten 
out  and  meet  an  intemperate  man,  who  appeared  bent  on 
coming  into  the  house.  But  before  he  could  leave  the  room, 
a  man  with  a  red  gleaming  face,  a  ragged  garb,  and  a 
slouched  hat,  gained  the  door,  and  we  were  all  immediately 
confronted  with  him.  Taking  off  his  hat,  his  black  entangled 
locks  fell  over  his  scarred  forehead,  and  gave  their  shade  to 
his  fiercely  gleaming  eyes  in  the  absence  of  his  hat  brim. 
We  all  trembled  a  little  at  the  savage  aspect  of  a  man  who 
had  made  wretched  a  life  that  might  have  been  one  of  use 
fulness  and  happiness,  and  who,  under  the  violence  of  his 
intemperance,  might  commit  any  sin  that  such  a  state  should 
prompt  him  to.  We  trembled,  not  for  our  own  safety,  but 
before  a  man  who  had  debased  and  ruined  himself;  before 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  57 

one  scarred  by  crime  within  and  without ;  before  a  human 
creature  more  desperate  than  a  beast  of  the  forest,  in  the 
toils  of  the  hunter ;  before  a  man  with  human  tongue  all 
corded  up  by  vice  ;  with  a  heart  untenanted  by  human 
blood  ;  the  source  no  more  of  vital  action  to  the  thousand 
carriers  of  the  human  life.  We  trembled  for  him,  for  her, 
for  them.  We  trembled  as  we  thought  of  the  last  sentence 
uttered  in  our  brief  conversation.  "  And  what  were  we 
ourselves,  but  for  the  mercy  of  God  V 

Stepping  one  foot  forward,  and  throwing  back  the  hair 
from  his  face,  he  cast  his  hat  on  the  floor  and  put  his 
foot  on  it.  He  then  drew  from  his  pocket  an  old  worn, 
soiled,  and  time-begrimed  wallet  which  he  hurled  on  the 
carpet,  saying,  "  fill  it,  fill  it,  an  old  hat  is  good  enough — 
any-way — but  who  can  stand — an  empty  purse  ?  Nobody. 
If  you've  a  quarter,  or  a  shilling,  give  it  to  me.  I'm  in  a 
desp'rate  case ;  I  hav'nt  had  a  drop  for  six  hours,  and  the 
last  I  got  with  a  loaf  of  wife's  bread,  stolen  from  her,  ha  ! 
ha  !  Fill  it,  will  ye— hey  ?" 

"Mr.  Willys,"  began  Mr.  Williams. 

"  Call  me  Hiram,  or  drunken  Willys.  I'm  no  Mr.  ; 
that's  gone  also" 

"  Well,  Hiram,  you  used  to  be  called  Mr.  You  will  al 
low  the  minister  still  to  give  you  the  same  title.  He  won't 
abuse  you,  nor  hurt  you." 

"  I  know  you,  I  know  you ;  you  preach  to  folks  to  be 
good,  don't  ye?  But  why  ain't  they  good — why  ain't  I 
good  1" 


58  PARISH-SIDE. 

"  That  is  very  easily  answered." 

"  No,  it  is'nt,  neither.  I've  tried  all  my  days  to  answer 
it,  and  eould'nt." 

"  The  Saviour  of  sinners  has  said,  '  how  often  would  I 
have  gathered  you  together  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens 
under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not."1  He  says  that  men 
will  not  come  to  him  that  they  may  have  life." 

"  Well,  who  cares  ;  rum's  rum ;  and  when  we  want  it 
thafs  the  greatest, — conscience  ain't  nothing — why  ain't  con 
science  stronger — hey  ?" 

"  Ah,  my  poor  friend,  you  have  let  your  adversary  over 
throw  your  fear  of  God,  and  hide  from  you  the  fear  of 
death  and  the  judgment — " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it." 

"And  also  your  sense  of  duty  to  your  family." 

"  My  family  !"  said  he,  with  bitterness. 

"  To  be  sure,  they  are  entitled  to  your  love  and  support." 

"  I  can't  support  them  and  me  too.  They  are  a  bother, 
and  always  cost  me  every  dollar  I  'arned — what's  the  poor 
man  to  do — hey  ?" 

"  He  must  keep  up  his  courage,  keep  sober,  keep  good 
Matured,  and  confide  in  the  Lord  his  God." 

"  The  Lord  w^on't  hear  drunkards." 

"  He  will  hear  the  humble." 

"  But  how  shall  a  wild,  crazy  drunkard  get  humble  ?" 

"  He  must  forsake  his  cups,  repent  of  his  intemperance 
and  immediately  go  to  God  in  prayer." 

"  Oh,  dear,— oh,"  DEAR!     Prayer!     You  can  pray.     Yes 


P  A  R  I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E  .  59 

you  are  the  minister.  These  are  your  folks.  You  all  pray, 
I  'spose  1  But  oh  !  Lord,  what  a  fellow  I  am.  I  tell  you, 
Parson,  I  never  pray  except  when  Pin  drunk,  and  then  I 
call  on  God  to  curse  me.  Say  !  now,  do  you  pray — I 
know  you  don't — such  prayers  1" 

Mr.  Williams,  seeing  it  was  too  much  for  his  wife  and 
sister  to  endure,  and  it  being  a  painful  scene  to  himself, 
said  in  his  kindest  manner,  "  Come,  my  good  friend,  sit  you 
down  here  and  join  us  in  our  family  devotions,  after  that 
my  wife  will  give  you  some  supper,  a  cup  of  tea  will  revive 
you." 

The  poor  man  looked  wildly  about  him,  now  at  his  hat, 
then  at  his  person,  and  anon  at  the  door,  but  finally  sat 
down,  crossed  one  limb  over  the  other  and  leaned  heavily 
and  almost  helplessly  back  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  By 
great  efforts  the  family  composed  themselves  to  some  de 
gree  of  requisite  calmness,  and  Mr.  Williams  read  aloud 
one  of  David's  penitential  Psalms.  Then  sweet  and  trem 
bling  voices  chanted  a  simple  song  of  Zion,  and  Mr.  Will 
iams,  after  this,  kneeling  down,  uttered  an  earnest,  tearful 
prayer  of  thanksgiving  and  supplication.  He  called  for  the 
presence  and  power  of  the  spirit  of  God  in  aid  of  the  poor 
man's  infirmity,  and  deliverance  from  his  sin.  The  prayer 
broke  out  from  his  soul  with  strong  crying  and  tears. 
There  were  many  tears  shed  at  that  family  altar  then  by  all 
who  bowed  around  it,  and  no  one  wept  more  bitterly  than 
he  who  was  there  in  his  haggard  and  crime  marked  visage, 
and  in  his  tottering  and  disjointed  frame,  and  in  the  sunken 


60  ^  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

slough  of  a  polluted  life.  Gathering  himself  up  with  des 
peration  in  the  effort,  before  any  one  could  prevent  him,  he 
bad  seized  his  hat  and  reached  the  door.  In  vain  Mr. 
Williams  rushed  after  him  and  in  the  kindest  manner 
cried  to  him  to  return.  He  went  thrashing  down  the  yard, 
struck  the  gate  with  his  foot,  and  with  great,  though  un 
steady  strides,  pushed  his  way  up  town.  It  was  now  be 
coming  dark. 

"  Why  !  what  a  poor  and  desperate  being,"  said  Mrs. 
Williams. 

"  He  is  one  of  the  most  reckless,  and  perhaps  incurable 
of  the  sons  of  crime,"  I  answered. 

"  But  he  groaned  so !  and  wept !"  said  she. 

"  Yes,  he  knows  the  language  of  prayer,  and  the  path  of 
duty.  When  he  was  but  three  years  old  he  lost  his  mother, 
and  his  father,  although  a  good  and  a  pious  man,  could 
not  restrain  and  govern  him  as  he  needed.  His  father,  how 
ever,  sent  him  to  college,  and  it  was  there  he  became  dissi 
pated  and  wild.  He  finished  his  studies,  both  academical 
and  professional,  before  his  habit  destroyed  him,  and  noth 
ing  but  his  intemperance  has  kept  him  from  a  position  of 
great  influence  at  the  Bar.  He  is  naturally  eloquent,  and  a 
man  of  decided  talents." 

"  Is  it  possible  !"  said  Mrs.  Williams,  "  I  have  read  and 
heard  of  similar  cases,  but  I  never  before  met  with  any 
person  so  fallen.  And  who  is  his  wife — and  what  i^ 
she?" 

"  She  is  the  daughter  of  General  Sumners  of  W — : — .  a 


PARISH -SIDE.  Gl 

highly  agreeable  and  fascinating  young  lady  when  married, 
and  she  now  refuses  to  leave  him." 

"  Poor  creature  !"  said  Mrs.  Williams,  "  poor  unhappy, 
ruined  and  abused  one — yet  faithful  to  the  end." 

Mr.  "Williams  had  seemed  rather  lost  in  thought  during 
our  conversation,  but  now  he  rose,  and  proceeded  to  button 
his  coat,  and  prepare  to  go  out.  "  It  won't  do,  it  will  not 
do,"  said  he,  "  to  sit  here,  and  let  that  man  go  home  in  his 
excitement  to  his  family,  or  to  grapple  alone  with  his  temp 
tations  and  sins.  I  will  go  after  him  immediately,  and  if  I 
do  him  no  good  may  at  least  prevent  some  hurt." 

His  wife  interposed  and  protested,  the  sister  begged  him 
not  to  go,  and  I  told  him  that  I  would,  feeble  as  I  was,  go 
myself  and  do  anything  he  wished. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  will  go,  I  must  go.  I  know  the  way  to 
his  house,  I  know  him  well.  You  stay  here  with  the  family 

till  I  return,  w.hich  will  be  soon,  and  all  will  be  well." 
****** 

This  was  the  commencement  in  the  reform  of  a  man  of 
great  natural  and  acquired  talents,  of  commanding  influence 
and  eloquence,  who  was  afterwards  a  dignified  and  honored 

member  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Let  no  one  smile  at  this.  Have  there  not  been  things  as 
strange  1 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

THE     AWAKENING. 

IT  was  a  great  pleasure  to  go  to  the  Parsonage  during  the 
spring  and  summer  months  and  in  the  autumn,  after  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Williams  took  possession  of  it.  How  cool  and 
pleasant  was  the  shade  of  the  great  trees,  how  neatly  were 
the  grounds  all  brushed,  and  how  charming  were  the  roses 
tfcat  Mrs.  Williams  cultivated  and  reared  with  her  own 
hands ;  how  sweet  the  violet  walks ;  how  rich  and  varied 
were  the  plants  and  vegetables  of  the  garden,  and  oh  !  how 
laden  were  all  the  trees  in  the  orchard  and  along  the  garden 
walks  with  fruit.  And  then  Mrs.  Williams  kept  her  house 
in  perfect  order,  her  tasteful  arrangements  conducing  far 
more  than  expensive  and  showy  furniture,  to  the  happiest 
effect,  and  to  the  charm  that  all  her  rooms  seemed  to 
create. 

Without  envying  her,  many  of  the  young  ladies  and  the 
elder,  for  that  matter,  looked  on  her  method  but  to  copy  it 
for  themselves  ;  and  there  was  a  great  brushing  up  all  over 
the  Parish  during  the  very  first  year  this  happy  and  ex 
emplary  couple  passed  with  us. 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  63 

And  it  was  noticeable  that  directly  as  the  autumn  set  in 
there  \vere  an  unusually  large  number  of  weddings.  Our 
young  people  seemed  to  appreciate  the  desirableness  of 
cheerful  homes  to  themselves,  and  the  possession  of  a 
FRIEND,  for  life's  weal  or  wo. 

The  society  had  increased  in  numbers  and  strength  from 
the  very  first  of  Mr.  Williams'  settlement,  and  it  now 
seemed  to  be  steadily  gaining  ground.  But  the  spiritual 
state  of  things  rested  heavily  on  the  Pastor's  mind.  lie 
felt  the  great  necessity  of  a  thorough  awakening  of  the 
church,  that  a  revival  of  religion  in  its  power  might  be 
manifest  to  all,  to  the  saving  of  souls.  His  earnest  desires 
on  this  point  sometimes  drove  sleep  from  his  eyes,  and 
deluged  his  face  with  tears  on  the  Sabbath  when  in  prayer. 
Often  would  he  seem  unable  to  speak  through  the  violence 
of  his  emotions.  It  was  not  long  before  several  young  per 
sons,  in  his  own  Bible  class,  became  thoughtful.  Some 
presently  indulged  a  hope  of  the  mercy  of  God.  Small 
circles  of  prayer  began  to  be  formed.  The  young  ladies' 
sewing  circle  became  a  serious,  praying  band.  A  large 
number  of  the  impenitent  in  the  congregation  wrere  awa 
kened,  and  several  heads  of  families  were  led  to  give  them 
selves  away  to  Christ  and  to  commence  morning  and  even 
ing  devotions  at  the  family  altar. 

The  feeling  became  so  serious  in  the  late  months  of 
autumn,  and  during  the  winter,  that  for  several  days  or 
weeks,  a  stranger  going  through  the  village  would  be  struck 
with  the  stillness  that  reigned  in  it — such  an  one  as  the 


64  PARISH -SIDE. 

Sabbath  day  itself.  The  customary  pleasures  of  the  young 
were  abandoned ;  balls,  parties,  games,  drinking,  shout 
ing,  and  revelry  of  all  kinds,  Sabbath-breaking,  and  profan 
ity  seemed  to  be  suspended,  if  not  broken  up.  Mr.  Will 
iams  gave  himself  to  the  work  with  the  energy,  and  faith 
fulness,  and  love  of  a  husbandman  gathering  in  the  autumn 
harvest.  To  him  it  was  the  harvest  season  of  immortal 
souls.  It  would  afford  a  most  interesting  and  instructive, 
as  well  as  affecting  part  of  our  narrative,  could  wre  copy  and 
insert  here  extracts  from  his  private  journal  of  this  period ; 
or  were  there  room  for  me  to  give  the  readers,  from  my 
own  minutes  and  memory,  but  a  small  portion  only  of  what 
this  most  thrilling  and  peaceful  awakening  furnished  me. 
How  it  brought  a  man  of  strong,  lively  character  and  frame 
to  his  couch,  and  caused  him  to  pray  for  mercy.  How  an 
other  in  the  prayer-meeting  threw  his  arms  around  his  pas 
tor,  exclaiming,  "  Oh  !  how  I  love  the  Saviour !  how  I  love 
you  /"  It  would  show  the  aged  man  brought — even  near 
the  twelfth  hour  of  life — to  see  the  long-despised  Saviour, 
most  infinitely  lovely  and  precious — the  young  and  folly- 
pursuing  rendered  thoughtful,  consistent,  prayerful.  One 
young  man  of  great  character  and  talents,  a  young  lawyer, 
shut  himself  in  his  office  to  escape  the  influence  that  was 
breathed  around  him,  but  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  infused  it 
self  even  there,  and  he  was  brought  humbly  to  repent  of  his 
sins,  and  to  confess  Christ.  And  by-and-bye  it  happened 
that  a  great  way  off  among  the  distant  Islands,  he,  by  his 
eloquence  and  learning,  held  frequently  large  public 


P  A  R  I  S  II  -  R  I  D  E .  G5 

audiences,  with  the  Lord  Bishop  presiding,  in  earnest  atten 
tion,  as  he  pleaded  the  great  cause  of  missions,  and  of  truth 
before  them.  And  by-and-bye,  also,  he  died,  and  a  great 
gathering  of  civilians,  and  of  the  soldiers  of  the  gar 
rison,  and  of  the  people,  spake  out  the  certainty  of  his 
loss — of  his  worth — of  the  greatness  and  importance  of 
his  conversion  to  God  !  There  were  morning  and  evening 
meetings  for  prayer.  Long  ere  the  sun  arose  in  the 
morning,  an  hundred  would  assemble  in  one  public  hall, 
to  pour  forth  their  supplications,  and  to  lift  up  the  voice 
of  praise.  And  what  the  joy  and  reward  of  the  faithful 
pastor  7  Oh,  let  that  reward  be  measured  in  the  future. 
It  cannot  be  all  known  and  expressed  on  earth.  Nearly 
one  hundred  and  fifty  persons  united  at  one  time  with  the 
church,  who  were  the  fruits  of  this  remarkable  awakening. 
The  whole  of  the  period  covered  by  this  work,  was  nearly, 
if  not  quite,  a  year.  No  one  can  tell  the  change  it  wrought 
in  the  Parish.  It  immediately  enlarged  and  strengthened 
the  Church,  and  gave  an  impulse  to  every  good  work  that 
was  for  a  long,  long  time  felt,  and  is  so  even  to  this  day.  I 
remember  that  on  one  occasion,  perhaps  it  was  near  the  end 
of  the  revival,  though  at  a  time  when  the  church  prayer- 
meetings  were  crowded  and  interesting,  that  one  of  the 
brethren  proposed  to  the  members  who  were  present  to 
vote,  by  rising,  that  they  would  regularly  attend  that  meet 
ing  whenever  it  lay  in  their  power.  Nearly  all,  or  quite 
all,  voted  accordingly,  and  the  Vow  seemed  to  have  been  an 
earnest  one.  It  was  a  wonder  to  us  all  how  full  that  prayer- 


66  P  A  R  I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E. 

meeting  continued  for  months — nay  years — after  it  had  been 
taken. 

There  were  brought  into  the  church  at  this  time,  among 
others,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Irvings,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Simonds,  Horace 
Bancroft,  Esq.,  the  young  lawyer,  and  Jonas  Hartwell,  also. 
Wilder  came  near  to  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  apparently, 
but  could  not  be  induced  to  enter,  greatly  to  the  disappoint 
ment  and  grief  of  his  parents.  Several  young  men  on 
being  converted,  turned  their  attention  immediately  to  a 
course  of  study  preparatory  to  the  ministry. 

The  church  of  Edgefield,  was  never  so  entirely  aroused 
and  active  in  a  revival  as  in  this.  They  appointed  frequent 
days  of  fasting  and  prayer  at  the  suggestion  of,  or  in  con 
junction  with,  their  pastor ;  they  sent  out  their  brethren  two 
and  two  through  the  Parish,  to  converse  and  pray  with  the 
impenitent,  and  appointed  and  sustained  prayer-meetings  in 
all  the  school  districts  of  the  town.  I  cannot  say  how  many 
evenings  were  thus  spent  by  the  brethren  of  the  church,  nor 
how  many  whole,  and  parts  of  days,  were  devoted  to  the  work. 
They  seemed  all  of  them  to  regard  it  a  solemn  duty,  and  a 
positive  happiness,  to  labor  with  their  pastor  to  build  up  the 
Redeemer's  kingdom.  Deacons  came  from  adjoining  par 
ishes  to  attend  the  meetings,  and  they  not  unfrequently  re 
turned  home  to  declare  what  great  things  God  had  done  for 
their  own  souls.  And  our  brethren  visited  other  parishes, 
and  exhorted  at  prayer-meetings,  as  well  as  visited  from 
house  to  house.  Thus  the  work  begun  with  us,  was  com 
municated  to  others.  It  spread  from  heart  to  heart,  and 


PARISH-SIDE.  67 

from  town  to  town,  so  that  the  season  is  remembered  as  one 
of  great  religious  concern  in  the  whole  vicinity  of  towns. 
Perhaps  five  hundred  souls,  during  this  awakening,  were 
brought  from  nature's  darkness  to  the  marvellous  light  of 
the  Gospel. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

THE    LADIES'    SEWING    SOCIETY. 

THE  annual  meeting  of  the  Ladies'  Sewing  Society  oc 
curred  in  September.  It  was  held  at  Dr.  Alexander's.  The 
afternoon  was  very  fair,  and  as  the  officers  of  the  Society 
were  to  make  their  report,  and  new  directors  were  to  be 
chosen,  and  Dr.  Alexander's  was  so  fine  a  place  to  visit,  an 
unusually  large  number  of  ladies  were  present. 

When  Mrs.  Williams  arrived,  accompanied  by  her  hus 
band,  there  was  a  general  excitement  among  them.  Mrs. 
Alexander  and  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Hillhouse,  received  them 
with  unaffected  cordiality,  and  Mrs.  Hillhouse  gently 
chiding  them  for  coming  late,  as  she  led  them  into  one 
group  and  another  of  the  busy  workers,  said,  "  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Williams,  ladies," — "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams,  ladies." 
The  ladies  bowed  and  smiled,  and  some  shook  hands,  and 
some  made  low  courtesies,  .and  others  held  back  partly 
afraid,  and  sewed  and  knitted  harder  than  ever,  but  there 
were  no  eyes  or  ears  really  turned  away  from  seeing  and 
hearing  all  that  was  said  and  done.  Mr.  Williams  having 
been  round  the  circle  with  his  wife,  and  at  last  lost  her  by 


P  A  R  I  S  II  -  S  I  D  E .  61) 

the  attractions  that  drew  her  one  way  and  himself  another, 
approached  a  group  of  ladies  with  laps  full  of  cambric- work, 
who  were  as  busy  in  conversation,  as  with  their  needles  and 
scissors. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  inform  her  beforehand," 
said  one  of  them  in  a  low  voice, — "  Hist !" 

"  Let  me  not  interrupt  your  conversation,  ladies,"  said 
he,  observing  a  slight  embarassment  and  hesitancy  among 
them. 

"  Not  at  all,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Street,  a  lady  directress  of 
the  Society,  "  we  are  happy  to  see  you  on  several  accounts. 
Both  yourself  and  Mrs.  Williams  are  looking  finely  to-day, 
and  it  gives  us  the  highest  pleasure  to  notice  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Madam ;  it  affords  us  much  happiness  to 
meet  you.  We  find  it  very  pleasant  afterwards,  when  at 
home,  to  speak  to  each  other  about  the  little  incidents  of  a 
meeting  like  this,  and  especially  about  the  nature  and  the 
results  of  your  exertions." 

"  Oh  !  it  is  precisely  my  own  remark  to  dear  Mrs.  Hart- 
well,"  said  Mrs.  Littleway,  a  simpering,  talking  widow  lady 
of  fifty  or  more,  who  was  remarkable  for  her  efforts  at 
youth,  and  sentiment,  and  tasteful  dress  ;  "  the  nature  of  our 
toils,  and  self-denials — the  remarkable  results,  are  a  study, 
indeed  they  are." 

While  Mrs.  Littleway  was  rolling  her  eyes  in  expressive 
wonder  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor,  at  this  point  in  her 
"  remark,"  Mrs.  Street  replied  to  the  pastor, 

"  We  do  very  little,  with  all  the  efforts  we  put  forth,  to 


70  PARISH -SIDE. 

relieve  any  sufferings,  or  to  promote  any  one  object  of 
good ;  but,  Sir,  we  would  ever  remember,  that  if  the  mo 
tive  be  good,  the  work  performed,  though  it  be  very  feeble 
and  inefficient,  is  regarded  by  the  Saviour  of  men,  as  though 
it  were  done  to  Him." 

"  Yes,  though  the  work  be  in  value  only  as  a  cup  of  cold 
water,  it  will  not  be  forgotten  or  unrewarded." 

"  True,  the  Saviour  has  said  this,"  she  replied.  "  but  I 
fear,  Sir,  that  few  will  enter  heaven  even  on  the  merits  of 
that  most  simple  and  beautiful  provision." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Mrs.  Littleway.  "  Why  how  much  you 
surprise  nie,  dear  Mrs.  Street.  1  supposed  that  all  our 
kind  deeds  would  be  remembered  for  us  in  the  great  day. 
And  for  myself,  I  am  very  frank  to  acknowledge  that  I 
never  draw  a  bucket  of  water  from  the  well  to  give  a  poor 
creature  drink,  but  I  think,  '  This  is  what  the  Saviour  will 
remember,  for  he  has  promised  it ;'  I  must  think,  my  dear 
friend,  that  you  undervalue  the  promise." 

"  By  no  means,"  she  answered,  "  if  I  comprehend  it.  But 
I  never  fail  to  remember  the  precise  words  of  the  Saviour 
in  that  remarkable  promise,  *  And  whosoever  shall  give  to 
drink  unto  one  of  these  little  ones  a  cup  of  cold  water  only 
in  the  name  of  a  disciple,  verily  I  say  unto  you,  he  shall  in 
no  wise  lose  his  reward.'  Now  here  is  something  done  for 
Christ.  Many  a  kind  word  you  have  spoken,  many  a 
bucket  of  water  drawn,  perhaps,  and  probably,  that  were 
not  specifically  in  honor  of  Christ." 


PARISH -SIDE.  71 

Mrs.  Littleway  confessed  she  performed  many  such  acts 
from  "  the  impulse  of  her  own  nature." 

"Well,  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Ilartwcll,  who  was  lady  Presi 
dent  of  the  Society,  "  let  us,  if  you  please,  inquire  of  Mr. 
Williams  what  we  shall  do  with  the  clothing  which  we  have 
made  this  summer  ?" 

So  the  ladies  looked  at  him  for  a  reply. 

Mr.  Williams  did  not  wish  to  direct  about  it ;  he  was 
willing  to  consult  with  them. 

A  good  many  ladies  now  gathered  around.  Various 
opinions  were  given  as  to  the  best  disposition  of  the  manu 
factured  garments  on  hand.  Mrs.  Williams,  and  Mrs. 
Ilillhouse,  and  Angelina  Hartwcll,  came  into  the  group. 

"  Say,  Mrs.  Williams,  do  you  know  where  it  is  best  to 
send  this  clothing,  and  these  goods  of  the  Society?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Street. 

Mrs.  Williams  was  surprised  at  the  question,  and  replied 
she  did  not.  Meeting  on  the  instant  the  eye  of  her  husband, 
she  noticed  it  intently  fixed  upon  her,  and  then  recalled  to 
mind  an  affecting  and  truthful  narrative  which  they  had  re 
cently  read  together,  of  "  THE  PRAIRIE  MISSIONARY." 

"I  do!  I  do !"  she  earnestly  exclaimed.  "Permit  me, 
ladies,  to  say  that  I  think  there  is  a  cabin  in  the  far  west, 
where  reside  a  missionary  and  his  wife,  that  your  bounty 
will  gladden  and  relieve  beyond  measure." 

All  the  ladies  expressed  the  utmost  desire  to  know  some 
thing  about  them. 

"  We  have  just  received    a    little    volume,"  she  added, 


PARIS  II -SIDE. 

"  and  we  have  read  it  with  many,  many  tears.  It  is  an  ac 
count  by  the  lady  herself  of  the  trials  and  disappointments 
they  experienced,  which  if  the  half  were  true,  were  enough 
to  entitle  them  to  the  prayers  and  sympathies  of  all  who 
love  the  cause  of  missions." 

Such  was  the  intense  desire  of  the  ladies  to  see  the  book, 
that  Mrs.  Hillhouse  sent  her  little  son  Henry  to  the  Parson 
age  for  it.  And  Mrs.  Williams  read  aloud  to  them  some 
portions  of  the  book,  and  described  the  general  tenor  of  the 
narrative,  till  with  one  mind  it  was  decided  to  send  them 
the  box,  and  to  forward  also  what  money  they  could  raise, 
in  a  letter.  Thus  did  they  show  that  the  revealing  of  true 
suffering  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  quickens  the  sympathies  and 
the  generosity  of  our  nature,  rather  than  deadens  and  af 
frights  them. 

A  call  on  the  ladies  to  attend  to  the  report  of  the  doings 
of  the  year,  called  together  all  the  members.  Miss  Evelina 
Street  read  the  paper.  They  had  received  one  hundred  and 
ten  dollars  in  money  during  the  year,  and  prepared  clothing 
and  other  work  sufficient  to  fill  the  box,  designed  now  for 
the  THE  PRAIRIE  MISSIONARY  and  his  suffering  family. 
They  had  clothed  the  poor  children  of  Hiram  Willys,  and 
paid  the  schooling  of  old  Mr.  Cooper's  grand-children,  as 
well  as  clothed  them.  They  had  given  ten  dollars  to  Mr. 
William  Black,  a  member  of  the  church,  who  was  in  poor 
health,  and  whose  family  were  somewhat  needy.  They  had 
given  fifty  dollars  to  the  society  to  help  repair  the  Par- 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  73 

sonage,  and  twenty -five  dollars  to  the  feeble  church  of  West 
Edgefield. 

Many  of  the  ladies  wept  with  joy  as  they  recalled  the 
little  offerings  of  the  year,  and  remembered  how  many 
pleasant  seasons  they  had  passed  together,  and  how  two  of 
their  beloved  helpers  had,  during  the  same  period,  left  them 
for  the  eternal  world,  Mrs.  Lovelace  and  Mrs.  Truewell. 

"  There  is  one  other  thing,  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Hartwell, 
"  that  must  be  attended  to,  and  may  as  well  be  now.  As 
this  is  the  annual  meeting,  it  is  necessary  to  appoint  officers 
for  the  year  to  come." 

"  Do  the  old  all  retire  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Hillhouse. 

"  All.     There  must  be  a  new  set  throughout." 

The  ladies  immediately  nominated  Mrs.  Williams. 

"  Oh  !  no  !  no !"  said  she,  "  I  must  be  excused.  I  cannot 
think  of  it.  I  am  unacquainted,  I  am  a  stranger." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  several  voices.  "  We  cannot  think 
of  choosing  anybody  else. 

"  There's  nothing  to  do,"  said  Mrs.  Littleway. 

"  But  you  do  accomplish  a  great  deal  of  work,"  she  an 
swered. 

"  We  will  take  all  the  work  on  our  own  hands,"  they  an 
swered. 

"  But  it  is  a  great  care.  One  should  preside  who  is  old 
er,  and  experienced,  and  acquainted." 

"That  is  not  at  all  necessary.  The  Directresses  will 
see  to  all  the  work,  and  help  about  appointments  for  the 
meetings." 

4 


74  PARISH-SIDE. 

"  I  am  a  stranger  among  you,  and  wish  to  be  at  liberty  to 
form  acquaintances  in  my  own  manner ;  ladies,  do  excuse 
me.  There  are  others  here  who  know  you  and  what  is  to 
be  done.  Do,  do  excuse  me. 

"  No,  they  could  not  think  of  it."  Mrs.  Littleway  said 
it  was  always  customary,  and  was  expected  of  the  minis 
ter's  wife  to  be  the  President.  And  so  the  poor  woman, 
nolens  volens,  was  made  President.  (Mrs.  Williams  was 
really  vexed  at  heart  at  the  appointment.  "So,"  said 
she  to  her  husband  when  at  home,  "  all  the  merit  of 
this  appointment  lies  in  being  the  minister's  wife.  I  am 
but  an  ignorant  girl  at  best,  or  but  a  young  lady,  and  know 
nothing  of  this  business,  and  am  a  stranger  too,  but  the 
honor  must  be  borne  by  me  because  lam  the  ministers  wife !" 

Mrs.  Williams  being  duly  installed  President,  with  the 
promise  that  she  should  have  none  of  the  care,  (an  exemp 
tion  no  one  wishes  to  enjoy  in  an  office  which  he  is  able  to 
fill,)  and  Mrs.  Hillhouse  and  Mrs.  Peters,  Directresses,  and 
Angeline  Hartwell,  Secretary  and  Treasurer,  made  the  best 
she  could  of  the  appointment,  and  with  these  ladies,  in  due 
time  commenced  a  very  promising  career  of  duty. 

Mr.  Williams  having  staid  tea,  pronounced  the  bless 
ing,  and  all  partook  of  Mr.  Alexander's  hospitality  with  the 
greatest  good  humor,  and  soon  after  separated.  Every 
body  rejoiced  in  the  opportunity  to  confer  tlje  disposable 
honor  on  one  so  well  qualified  and  worthy  of  it  as  Mrs. 
Williams. 


CHAPTEE   XL 

THE    PARISH  VISIT. 

i 

So  passed  the  summer  and  autumn.  It  was  the  deter 
mination  of  the  Society  to  pay  their  minister  a  general 
visit  at  New  Years'.  This  custom  is  now  well  established 
in  many  of  our  churches ;  and  really,  when  proposed  and 
managed  with  due  consideration,  it  results  in  substantial  aid 
to  the  Pastor,  and  in  much  happiness  to  the  people.  When 
New  Years'  arrived,  therefore,  the  visit  was  made.  I  will 
mention  the  manner  of  it.  I  have  already  mentioned 
several  valuable  donations  that  were  sent  to  him  by  differ 
ent  persons  ;  some  of  these  were  made  at  the  Parish  visit. 
It  was  regarded  as  a  very  pleasant  circumstance  that  the 
visit  could  be  made  by  the  light  of  a  brilliant  moon,  and 
that  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  three  or  four  days  previous  to 
New  Years',  allowed  of  a  merry  sleigh  ride  and  the  jingling 
of  bells  to  add  to  the  excitement  and  joy  of  the  occasion. 
It  also  enabled  the  farmers  to  draw  the  heavier  loads  of 
wood  ;  which,  by  the  way,  were  coming  up  into  the  yard  of 
the  Parsonage  through  the  whole  day. 

"  What  a  prodigious  load  of  wood  is  that !"  said  the 


76  PARISH -SIDE. 

Pastor  to  his  wife,  pointing  to  an  enormous  pile  drawn  by 
four  yoke  of  oxen  ;  and  which,  havving  been  cut  sixteen  feet 
long,  rested  on  two  sleds. 

"  How  can  they  get  into  the  yard  ?"  she  inquired. 

"  Indeed,  that  I  had  not  thought  of.     We  shall  see." 

The  ladies  raised  the  windows  and  smiled  as  the  great 
bulk  of  wood  passed  safely  through  the  wide  gate  and  yard, 
to  the  wood-pile  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"  There  !  Whoa  !  whoa  !  whoa ! !"  shouted  the  team 
sters. 

"  Good  morning !  Parson  Williams,"  cried  out  Deacon 
Armstrong,  who  had  a  team  in  the  gang,  and  a  hand  in  the 
enterprize.  "  What  do  you  think  of  that,  hey  ?" 

"  It's  enormous  !  Sir,  enormous." 

"  It  takes  oxen  to  draw  it,  eh  f  said  the  deacon. 

"  Mr.  Williams,"  said  Hugh  Wallace,  a  neighbor  of  the 
deacon's,  "  will  you  please,  Sir,  bring  a  rule  or  four-foot 
stick  and  measure  it ;  we  want,  out  of  curiosity,  to  see 
what  it  will  measure,  for  perhaps  somebody  else  will  try 
to  beat  it." 

Mr.  Williams  said  he  could  make  a  rule,  but  the  driver 
had  one  on  his  whip  stick  regularly  notched  off  with  his 
knife ;  and  by  actual  measurement,  the  load  was  found  to 
be  more  than  four  cords  and  a  half ! 

"  That'll  do  !  that'll  do,  boys,"  said  the  deacon.  "  Now 
then  let's  throw  it  off,  and  beat  it,  they  who  can." 

Before  it  was  thrown  off,  in  came  Captain  Wilkes,  of  the 
north  end  with  a  great  load  of  hickory.  And  before  he 


PARISH-SIDE. 


77 


was  out  of  the  way,  Deacon  Hartwell's  man  came  in  with  a 
load  of  hay,  and  presently  Mr.  Sweetser  with  a  largo 
wagon  load  of  straw.  So  they  kept  it  up,  going  and  com 
ing,  till  three  or  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Mr.  Wil 
liams  received  at  this  time  fifteen  loads  of  wood,  or  about 
twenty  cords ! 

The  evening  was  beautiful,  and  as  soon  as  the  house  was 
well  lighted,  the  people  began  to  drive  up  with  the  merry 
bells  of  winter.  Some  of  the  old  people  came  in  the  after 
noon.  Some  of  them  took  tea  and  left  at  sundown.  All 
brought  some  gift  to  the  Pastor  and  his  wife.  It  was  the 
people's  visit,  and  as  they  invited  themselves,  they  brought 
their  own  tea,  and  sugar,  and  cake,  and  biscuit,  and  pies, 
and  jellies.  In  the  evening  th^  old  Parsonage  was  com 
pletely  jammed  with  company.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams 
received  all  who  came  with  as  much  ceremony  and  polite 
attention  as  was  possible  under  the  circumstances,  but  it 
was  necessary,  all  the  first  part  of  the  evening,  to  greet 
their  friends  near  the  PANTRY,  or  at  the  top  of  the  cellar 
stairs,  because  every  good  mother,  cook  or  pork-producer, 
esteems  it  half  the  pleasure  at  such  a  time  to  say  to  the 
donee,  "  This  is  some  of  mine  /"  And  who  shall  complain 
if  it  is  so ;  is  it  not  a  free  gift,  a  generous  gift,  a  carefully 
prepared  or  selected  one — the  BEST  1  Mr.  Williams  under 
stood  and  appreciated  this  principle  too  well  to  overlook  it, 
so  he  was  ready  to  greet  every  one  with  a  cheerful  word, 
and  with  many  expressions  of  admiration  and  pleasure  as 
he  received  and  had  passed  into  the  pantry,  cellar,  or  loft, 


78  PARISH-SIDE. 

whatever  came  into  his  hand.  All  the  pantry  shelves  were 
filled  with  frosted  cakes,  plum  cakes,  cream  cakes,  fruit 
cakes,  pies  of  every  kind  made  in  the  most  delicate  man 
ner,  as  rich  and  luscious  as  possible  to  be  made.  Jars 
were  brought  filled  with  jellies  and  sweetmeats.  Pots  with 
butter,  lard  and  cream,  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  flour,  meal,  beef, 
pork,  vegetables — enough  of  every  kind  for  the  enter 
tainment  of  the  vast  company  present,  and  for  the  family 
long  time  afterwards.  But  you  enquire,  "  And  pray,  did 
Mrs.  Williams  have  the  trouble  of  receiving  all  these,  or 
any  part  of  them  T  No — or  very  few.  She  was  all  about 
among  the  comers,  now  by  the  side  of  her  husband,  then  in 
the  parlor,  anon  receiving  some  delicate  and  appropriate 
gift  deposited  on  the  mantel  or  side  table.  "  Did  she  and 
the  family  prepare  the  tables  for  the  entertainment  of  this 
great  company  T  Oh !  no.  The  ladies  and  gentlemen  did 
all  this.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  sat  down  once  or  twice 
with  their  friends  and  drank  tea  after  THANKS,  but  they 
were  not  allowed  to  exert  themselves  at  all  in  any  labors 
or  preparations  of  this  sort. 

I  would  not  forget  to  say  that  as  one  of  the  large  cham 
bers  of  the  Parsonage  had  not  been  furnished  or  occupied 
by  the  family,  it  was  at  the  visit  completely  furnished  with 
everything  necessary  to  its  convenience.  Mr.  Williams  re 
ceived  also  twenty-five  dollars  worth  of  books  for  his  study 
library,  and  a  rich  writing  desk  and  chair.  The  young 
ladies  brought  Mrs.  Williams  two  beautifully  wrought 
Ottomans  for  her  parlor,  and  Esquire  Peters  hung  up  in 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  79 

it  two  large  pictures,  exquisite  paintings  of  Alpine  scenery, 
in  heavy  gilt  frames,  that  were  much  admired  by  every 
body. 

Mrs.  Williams  delighted  her  guests  with  some  of  her 
rich  songs,  and  music  on  the  piano,  and  once  the  whole  of 
the  company  sung  together  the  sweet  old  music  of  "  AULD 
LANG  SYNE." 

When  the  company  had  feasted,  and  sung,  and  chatted 
till  the  evening  was  pretty  well  advanced ;  and  even  the 
boys  and  girls  had  eaten  cake  and  pie  enough  for  a  month, 
and  filled  their  pockets,  and  little  reticules,  for  an  uncertain 
amount  of  time  thereafter,  Deacon  Ilartwell  and  Dr. 
Alexander  called  the  attention  of  the  party  to  some  re 
marks  from  the  pastor,  and  a  prayer. 

Mr.  Williams  stood  near  the  door  where  he  could  best 
be  seen  and  heard,  and  beside  him  was  Mrs.  Williams, 
holding  in  her  hand  a  new  and  elegant  lace-edged  handker 
chief,  a  gift  from  her  friend  Mrs.  Hillhouse ;  the  people 
gathered  around  and  were  as  attentive  as  possible,  while 
their  Pastor  thanked  them  for  their  generous  remembran 
ces  of  himself  and  family,  so  greatly  exceeding  anything 
that  they  had  expected,  and  the  ideas  which  they  in  their 
social  circle  had  formed  and  expressed  of  it.  He  said  he 
had  never  before  been  present  at  a  like  festival,  and  must 
say  that  he  was  happily  disappointed  in  respect  to  the  or 
der  which  had  characterized  the  evening  for  he  had  heard 
many  things  to  the  prejudice  of  these  gatherings.  He  was 
most  happy  to  bear  his  testimony  to  the  contrary,  and  es 


80  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

peeially  rendered  his  thanks  to  all  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
who  had  taken  so  much  of  the  care  of  the  evening  from 
himself  and  his  wife,  and  had  secured  every  possible  con 
venience  to  all  assembled.  He  thanked  them  for  the 
generous  purse  of  gold  which  they  had  presented  him,  for 
the  well  filled  pantry  and  larder,  for  the  huge  pile  of  fuel 
in  the  yard,  for  the  barn  loft  filled  with  hay  and  straw,  for 
the  room  filled  with  new  and  rich  furniture,  for  their  es 
pecial  remembrances  of  Mrs.  Williams,  as  of  himself,  his 
purse,  his  study. 

I  don't  know  what  he  could  have  said  better.  Every 
body  was  pleased,  and  drew  a  long  breath  when  he  had 
concluded.  The  prayer  which  followed  it  was  made  in  Mr. 
Williams'  happiest  manner.  It  was  humble,  it  was  grate 
ful,  it  was  fervent  in  thanksgiving  and  supplication,  it  ac 
knowledged  human  dependence,  it  sought  aid  from  heaven 
to  enable  every  one  to  perform  his  duty  as  an  accountable 
creature  of  God,  it  had  a  remembrance  of  the  poor  and 
suffering,  and  gave  God  the  glory  due  unto  his  name  for  all 
that  he  had  wrought  in  heaven  above  and  in  the  earth  be 
neath. 

Some  were  present  there  who  will  never  see  the  like  as 
semblage  again  on  earth.  Before  this  year  shall  expire 
how  many  of  those  who  then  met  will  have  paid  nature's 
great  debt,  and  gone  hence  to  be  with  us  no  more. 

The  grounds  all  about  the  house  had  been  filled  up  with 
sleighs,  as  one  party  after  another  drove  up,  and  now  as  the 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  81 

nine  o'clock  hour  arrives,  some  are  going,  others  linger.  It 
is  half  past  nine,  others  are  driving  out  their  sleighs.  The 
bells  ring  most  cheerily.  It  is  a  clear,  cold,  though  not  a 
gusty  night.  It  is  ten — most  of  the  old  folks  are  gone. 
But  yet  the  rooms  are  not  vacant.  It  is  half  past  ten.  The 
sleigh-bells  jingle — the  loads  of  young  people  drive  off — 
away  goes  this — and  away  that  party — some  up — others 
down  town—over  west — down  to  the  "  hollow" — out  to  the 
factory — away  over  to  the  hills — jingle — jingle — jingle.  It 
is  eleven — the  front  door  is  locked  and  barred — the  doors 
are  all  fastened — the  lights  burn  dimly.  'Here  and  there 
one  is  extinguished,  and  all  who  remain  are  Mrs.  Hillhouse, 
Angelina  Hartwell,  and  Evelina  Street,  and  they  arc  folded 
up  together  in  a  corner,  near  the  old  Franklin  stove !  And 
here  is  the  pastor,  with  candle  borne  above  his  head,  in  the 
pantry,  peering  up  into  the  loaded  shelves,  and  standing 
among  the  mementoes  of  this  new,  this  rich,  this  extraordi 
nary  occasion.  And  anon  he  is  in  his  study,  gazing  into 
those  new  and  beautiful  volumes,  and  reclining  in  that  soft 
and  wide-spreading  arm-chair.  There  is  an  air  of  comfort 
in  the  room  before  unknown,  and  he  lifts  up  a  tearful  eye, 
and  a  broken  ejaculation  of  praise  to  God.  Anon  he  goes 
down  by  the  back  stairs,  and  with  candle  in  hand  wanders 
away  into  his  cellar,  and  looks  about  him  there.  Then  he 
ascends,  and  slowly  removes  the  fastenings  of  the  door,  and 
goes  out  into  the  moonlight  to  see  the  wood  piled  in  such 
a  bold  manner  in  the  wood-yard  ;  and  he  goes  within  the 
barn,  now  filled  to  the  rafters  with  hay  and  straw  ;  and  then 
4* 


82  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

he  walks  around  to  see  where  the  horses  have  stood  by  the 
trees  and  fences,  and  where  the  sleighs  were  turned  round 
in  the  snow,  and  what  a  hard,  highway-road  the  teams  and 
light  sleighs  have  made  through  his  wide  gate-way.  Then, 
as  calmly  as  he  can,  he  returns  and  makes  fast  the  door,  and 
walks  through  the  dining  rooms  where  the  fragments  of  the 
feast  still  lie,  as  they  were  left  by  his  guests ;  and  hearing 
voices  and  feet  above,  away  wanders  he  to  join  the  com 
pany  of  his  wife  and  the  ladies  in  the  newly-furnished  cham 
ber,  where  Mrs.  Williams  discourses  her  approbation  quite 
in  accordance  with  his. 

The  pastor  feels  grateful.  He  determines  to  labor  more 
and  more  faithfully  for  his  people.  He  rejoices  in  their 
liberality,  as  evincing  generous,  whole-hearted  benevolent 
principles.  If,  so  much  is  so  freely  done  for  himself,  what 
may  not  be  expected  in  behalf  of  the  cause  of  Christ,  his 
Lord,  and  Redeemer  ? 

It  is  midnight,  and  yet  he  does  not  sleep.  The  cold  frost 
forms  on  the  windows.  He  thinks  of  the  poor  and  hungry 
and  wishes  that  some  of  his  abundance  might  be  shared 
with  them.  And  when  at  last  he  closes  his  eyes,  it  is  to 
dream  that  he  is  an  almoner  of  Christ,  to  bear  to  the  poor 
and  suffering  the  precious  fruits  of  salvation,  even  the  pro 
visions  of  grace  and  eternal  life  !  He  bids  them  hunger  no 
more,  nor  sorrow,  nor  suffer,  for  in  Christ  all  tears  are 
washed  away,  and  all  sorrow  is  removed  for  ever !  Sweet 
sleep  !  Sweet,  heavenly  dream  ! 


CHAPTER    XII. 

SALE     OF    THE     SLIPS. 

THE  next  thing  that  followed  in  order  was  the  sale  of  the 
slips  for  the  year.  The  Committee  of  the  Society  caused  a 
notice  to  be  given  on  the  Sabbath  that  the  sale  would  take 
place  the  following  Tuesday  night,  at  the  church.  They 
also  nailed  up  a  notice  of  the  same  in  the  porch.  At  the 
hour  appointed,  the  church  bell  gave  out  its  loud  merry 
peal  over  the  Parish  ;  and,  as  it  was  good  sleighing,  a  great 
many  appeared  at  the  sale.  The  committee  were  anxious 
to  raise  seven  hundred  dollars  from  the  slips  that  year,  be 
cause  it  had  been  proposed  by  many  to  raise  the  salary  a 
hundred  dollars,  and  they  knew  of  no  better  or  easier  way 
to  do  it  than  by  the  sale  of  the  slips.  The  sale  began. 
Old  Mr.  Waters  must  have  his  slip  at  the  usual  price,  for 
he  is  poor.  The  Misses  Breakwell  will  give  so  much  and 
no  more.  Deacon  Hartwell,  who  did  not  like  to  change  his 
seat,  was  run  up  to  twenty-five  dollars,  Esquire  Peters  to 
thirty  dollars,  Dr.  Alexander  to  twenty  dollars,  Marcus 
Street  and  son  to  twenty-five  dollars.  This  was  an  advance 
of  fifty  per  cent,  on  the  previous  year.  The  work  having 


84  PARISH-SIDE. 

begun  so  well,  it  was  kept  up  a  good  while.  But  there  were 
some  who  lost  good  seats  by  their  unwillingness  to  bid  up 
to  what  they  were  going,  and  went  back  surlily.  Among 
these  was  Wilder  Hartwell.  "  He'd  have  a  slip  for  eight 
dollars,  or  not  buy  one — and  a  good  one  too."  There  were 
some  who  couldn't  see  the  propriety  of  running  up  the  slips, 
or  paying  any  more  salary.  But  the  committe  worked 
hard  to  suit  everybody.  Wilder  at  length  bought  a  good 
side  slip  for  six  dollars,  and  as  his  wife  "  liked  a  window- 
seat,"  he  was  satisfied ;  "  as  for  himself,  he  didn't  want 
any."  The  people  kept  going  and  coming  through  the 
evening,  till  past  nine  o'clock.  Then  the  committee  brought 
the  sale  to  a  close.  They  had  already  disposed  of  one  hun 
dred  slips,  and  raised  six  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  There 
were  about  twenty  slips  on  their  hands,  rather  poor  choices 
most  of  them,  but  they  were  all  wanted,  and  would  make 
out  the  seven  hundred  dollars. 

Many  of  the  people  accordingly  left,  all  were  fast  making 
off;  when  a  man  hastily  came  in  and  inquired, 

"  Well,  Mr.  Committee,  which  is  my  slip  ?" 

"Oh!  dear  me,  whew,  whew,  this  now  is — too — bad. 
Colonel,  I  declare  to  you  that  I  entirely  forgot  your  direc 
tions.  We  have  sold  all  the  main  aisle  slips  except  these 
at  the  bottom,  and  let's  see — on  the  sides — but — let's  see — 
number  sixty-eight — and  seventy — " 

"  Hang  your  side-aisle  slips,  what  do  I  want  with  'em.  I 
told  you  to  get  me  a  thirty  dollar  slip,  and  you  said  you 
would." 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  85 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it.  How  in  the  world  I  could  forget 
it—" 

"  Forget  it — you  didn't  forget  it.  No  business  man 
could  forget  his  duty  at  such  a  time.  You  ain't  fit  to  be  a 
committee  man.  I'll  have  a  middle  slip  or  leave  the  So 
ciety — mind  you,  a  good  one  too."  And  away  he  went. 

"  Now  isn't  that  too  bad  1"  inquired  Mr.  Street,  turning 
with  an  anxious  countenance  to  his  colleagues  of  the  com 
mittee,  Mr.  Sweetser  and  Deacon  John  Willard.  "  It  is 
astonishing  that  I  should  forget  his  wishes.  And  the  Colonel 
is  so  easily  roused  up,  I  don't  know  but  we  shall  lose  him." 

"Hurrah!  what  is  to  pay  here  to-night?"  inquired  a 
gentleman  going  by  of  some  that  were  leaving,  whom  he 
met  on  the  side-walk  in  front  of  the  church. 

"  Nothing  but  the  sale  of  the  slips,  I  believe." 

"The  sale  of  the  slips — what — zounds — why  didn't  I 
know  of  this  ?" 

So  he  turned  short  on  his  heel,  and  hastened  into  the 
church  just  as  Colonel  Arrs  came  muttering  out.  This  gen 
tleman  was  Mr.  White,  who  had  become  of  late  a  meeting- 
going  man,  though  formerly  the  very  opposite,  and  quite  a 
ranter  against  the  society.  He  was  a  man  of  considerable 
influence,  and  it  was  hoped  that  he  would  become  a  Christ 
ian,  and  be  a  staunch  helper  in  the  Parish.  He  hurried  up 
the  aisle. 

"What — what  is  all  this — slips  selling — all  over — I 
not  informed  of  it.  Why  Mr.  Street,  what  does  this 
mean  T 


86  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

"  Dear  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Street,  "  did  you  get  no  word  of 
this  sale  1  Why  where  were  you  last  Sabbath,  and  where 
have  you  been  the  last  week  ?" 

"  Out  of  town — out  of  town — surely,  Sir,  and  this  very 
hour  have  returned — knew  nothing  of  all  this.  Are  you  all 
sold — all  done  T 

"  Why  not  exactly  ;  we  have  no  very  good  seats  though 
to  offer  you.  Here  are  numbers  sixty-eight  and  seventy 
four  not  sold ;  very  tolerable — not  the  best  seats — " 

"  No,  no,  a  good  deal  short  of  that.  Why  in  the  world 
didn't  I  hear  of  this  ?  I  must  have  a  slip — a  good  one — a 
good  desirable  slip.  Perhaps  my  wife  has  attended  to  this 
matter.  She.  good  soul,  loves  the  church." 

"  Ah  !  well,"  said  Mr.  Street,  "  I  remember  to  have  seei 
her  here  with  several  other  ladies,  and  perhaps  she  has  a 
slip  with  some  one  else,  bid  off  in  his  name." 

"  Yes  !  very  likely.  Adieu,  gentlemen."  Coming  back, 
he  said,  "  Keep  sixty-eight  for  me  till  to-morrow  at  nine 
o'clock,  for  I'll  have  that  if  my  wife  has  not  already  secured 
one."  And  away  he  went. 

a  There  is  no  other  way,"  said  Mr.  Street,  "  to  satisfy  the 
Colonel  but  to  give  him  my  seat." 

"  Pshaw,  pshaw,"  said  Deacon  Willard,  "  I'd  do  no  such 
thing.  Keep  your  own  seat ;  let  him  do  as  poor  folks  do, 
when  he  can't  do  any  better." 

"  But  you  see,  Deacon  Willard,  it  is  my  fault  that  he  has 
lost  his  slip.  And  we  must  humor  such  men,  or  the  society 
wUl  suffer.  I'll  give  him  iny  seat." 


PARISH-SIDE.  87 

"  You  make  a  great  sacrifice,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Sweetser. 

"  No,  it  is  of  no  great  moment.  If  Mr.  White  takes 
sixty-eight,  I  will  have  seventy-four.  So  we  are  through 
for  this  evening.  The  pastor  has  number  ONE,  as  usual. 
We  have  unsold  eighteen  or  twenty  slips.  So,  gentlemen, 
let  us  hurry  off  while  we  can,  for  somebody  else  will  drop 
in  if  we  linger." 

Folding  up  their  papers,  the  committee  left  the  house. 

"  Well,  if  this  don't  beat  all  slip-sales  that  ever  I  saw  or 
heard  of,"  muttered  to  himself  the  spare,  weather-beaten 
sexton,  who  wore  a  slouching  broad-rimmed  and  broken-in 
hat,  and  a  faded  outside  garment  that  reached  below  his 
knees,  with  large  pockets  at  the  sides.  "  Who  ever  heard 
of  slips  selling  for  e'en  a'  most  seven  hundred  dollars  at  one 
sale  before?  And  what's  it  all  for?  Nobody  knows. 
Raise  the  salary  1  Salary  !  Just  as  tho'  the  salary  was'nt 
raised  a'ready  !  Bin  raising  it  ever  since  I  was  a  boy.  Let 
them  raise  my  salary,  I'm  poor.  But  Colonel  Arrs  must 
have  the  best  and  biggest  slip  in  the  church  !  Yes,  just  as 
though  Marcus  Street  wan't  as  big  as  he !  And  he'll  pay 
thirty  dollars  for  it  1  Wher'd  the  money  come  from  if  his 
honest  debts  were  paid  1  This  is  the  way  folks  live  now 
days.  Once,  five  dollars  would  buy  the  best  slip  in  church. 
But  now  it's  thirty  dollars,  and  next  year  it'll  be  forty  ! 
And  some  folks  must  have  the  middle  aisle  or  none — jist  as 
if  they  were  an  honor  to  a  meeting-house  if  they  sat  there, 
and  no  where  else  !  Can  hear  better  and  see  better  in  the 
middle  aisle?  No  such  thing;  it's  pride.  Who'll  get  to 


88  PARISH -SIDE. 

heaven  first,  I  wonder,  Mr.  Pride,  or  Mr.  Humble  ?  Here's 
one  hundred  "and  fifty  dollars  raised  mor'n  last  year. 
Pretty  well,  I  think,  for  the  old  society.  And  who's  to  get 
it  all,  the  minister  and  the  choir1?  No,  the  sexton  shall 
have  his  share,  or  Pll  grumble.  I  work  hard  for  'em,  build 
the  fires,  sweep  out  the  house,  light  the  lamps,  makfe  all  the 
paths,  seat  the  folks,  stay  all  Sunday  till  nine  o'clock,  and 
do  the  hard  dirty  work  for  the  society — for  how  much — 
yes,  for  how  much  ?  Why  for  thirty  dollars  a  year ! 
Whew !  what  do  you  say  to  that,  hey  ?  If  it  ain't  raised 
Pll  quit.  I'll  have  justice.  Pll  make  a  fuss  too ;  then 
what?" 


CHAPTEE   XIII. 

DIFFICULT    TO    SUIT  ALL. 

THE  next  two  days  that  followed  the  sale  of  the  slips, 
were  busy  days  with  the  committee.  Mr.  Street's  counting 
room  was  full  half  the  time.  Messrs.  Jones  and  Wilcox 
had  two  or  three  men  with  families  recently  come  to  work 
for  them,  and  they  wanted  slips,  "  good  slips."  The  Colo 
nel  took  Mr.  Street's.  As  Mrs.  White  had  not  secured  her 
husband  a  seat,  it  was  found  necessary  to  apply  for  one  to 
the  committee,  and  number  sixty-eight  was  set  down  to 
that  family.  Mr.  Street  had  seventy-four  put  to  his  name, 
but  the  widow  Longsbury  and  her  three  daughters  saying 
that  they  calculated  on  having  that  seat  if  any,  Mr.  Street 
gave  that  up  also,  and  sat  in  one  hundred  and  one,  quite 
down  under  the  singers.  But  his  wife  and  family  rebelling 
at  this,  he  made  arrangements  with  the  holder  of  num 
ber  thirty,  near  the  pulpit,  to  accommodate  a  part  of  his 
family  there. 

"  Mr.  Street,"  said  a  gentleman  coming  in  to  the  office  in 
haste,  "  how's  this,  I  told  you  to  bid  me  off  a  slip  at  eight 
dollars,  and  you've  run  me  up  to  fifteen." 


90  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

"  True,  Sir,  but  none  of  the  middle  aisle  slips  sold  for 
eight  dollars,  and  I  thought  you  wanted  a  good  seat  so  J 
bid  you  off  number  forty,  fifteen  dollars." 

"  But  I  can't  stand  it ;  its  too  much.  I'd  sooner  have  no 
slip  than  pay  such  an  exhorbitant  price  for  it — can't  stand 
it,  no  how." 

"  Why,  Sir,  everybody  else  pays  in  the  same  propor 
tion." 

"  Can't  help  that.  I'll  go  to  the  Methodist  Church  first. 
You  can  buy  good  slips  there  for  five  dollars." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Sir.  Mr.  Sweetser  what  can  we  do  for 
Mr.  Haiiey ;  is  there  a  slip  that  he  can  take  on  the  wall 
aisle  in  exchange  for  this  1" 

"  Perhaps  so,  here  is  ninety-eight,  eighty-seven,  one  hun 
dred  and  five,  six,  seven,  unsold." 

"  I'll  exchange  seventy-two  with  him,"  cried  out  George 
Dorings,  a  farmer  from  the  west  side." 

"What  did  it  cost  ?" 

"  Cost !  why  I  paid  ten  dollars  for  it." 

"  I  can't  stand  it,  too  high,  money  is  hard  to  get ;  no,  no, 
give  me  a  wall  slip  ;  what  are  they  1" 

"  Any  of  those  left  are  four,  five,  and  six  dollars." 

"  Give  me  then  eighty-seven  for  four-dollars." 

"  Oh,  no  Sir,  that  is  six  dollars." 

"  Six  dollars  !  that's  too  high." 

"Does  Mr.  Harley  wish  to  dispose  of  number  forty, 
bid  off  at  fifteen  dollars  ?"  inquired  a  lady  in  a  loud  sharp 
voice. 


PARIS  II -SIDE,  91 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  do." 

"  Well,  Sir,  put  it  down  to  me."  So  Mrs.  Hastings,  the 
lady  who  kept  boarders  in  the  village,  secured  herself  a 
good  slip  quite  unexpectedly. 

Mr.  Harley  while  debating,  lost  eighty-seven,  and  was 
glad  at  last  to  take  ninety-eight  for  five  dollars. 

The  committee  worked  very  hard  for  two  or  three  days 
to  satisfy  every  one,  but  there  were  several  who  were  not 
pleased,  and  some  said  they  should  leave  and  go  to  the 
other  societies.  This  is  always  a  very  frightful  remark 
to  committee  men,  ministers,  and  timorous  society  men. 
They  sec  in  it  the  immediate  falling  to  pieces  of  the  church 
and  society ! 

On  the  whole,  the  society  was  pleased  at  the  sale.  Every 
thing  looked  very  prosperous,  and  it  was  generally  conceded 
that  the  church  must  be  enlarged  in  order  to  accommodate 
all  who  wanted  slips. 

The  people  were  glad  that  now  nothing  stood  in  the  way 
of  allowing  their  Pastor  an  increase  of  his  salary.  His  de 
votion  to  the  people  of  his  charge  had  secured  their  un 
qualified  regard,  and  there  were  very  few  indeed  who  did 
not  desire  to  make  his  position,  in  pecuniary  matters,  as 
agreeable  as  possible. 

And  it  was  the  joy  of  Mr.  Williams'  heart  that  there 
were  so  many  "  praying"  men  in  his  church,  who,  in  times 
of  awakening,  as  in  the  stated  and  regular  weekly  meetings, 
could  be  relied  on  to  help  him.  There  were  several  breth 
ren  in  the  church  who  were  capable  of  making  a  forcible, 


92  PARISH-SIDE. 

intelligent,  and  awakening  address,  as  rich  in  thought,  and 
as  persuasive,  almost,  as  the  Pastor  himself. 

Some  of  the  brethren,  especially  Deacon  Hartwell,  Dr. 
Alexander,  and  Mr.  Street,  were  remarkable  for  their 
happy  and  forcible  style  of  exhortation.  And  in  prayer, 
Deacon  Armstrong,  Mr.  Sweetser,  and  Esquire  Peters 
were  all  devout  and  fervent,  causing  a  general  seriousness 
to  rest  on  every  attentive  mind  present.  When  the  Pastor 
was  unable  to  attend,  these  and  other  brethren  would  cheer 
fully  take  charge  of  the  meeting,  and  see  that  nothing  was 
neglected  which  would  -give  solemnity  and  interest  to  it. 
If,  then,  there  were  among  us  some  men  of  narrow  views 
and  questionable  piety,  we  had  our  full  share  of  good,  in 
telligent,  pious,  devoted  Christians,  warm-hearted  in  the  ser 
vice  of  Christ,  helpful  to  their  Pastor  and  ready  to  en 
gage  in  any  good  word  and  work. 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 

THE   SOCIETY'S    COMMITTEE — THE   BELL. 

ON  Friday  evening,  Deacon  Hartwell,  Dr.  Alexander, 
Esquire  Peters,  Marcus  Street,  Mr.  Sweetser,  and  Deacon 
Willard  met  at  my  office  to  consult  together  about  the  So 
ciety  and  to  see  what  might  be  the  financial  state  of  things. 

After  the  customary  salutations  were  exchanged  the  busi 
ness  came  on.  Esquire  Peters  remarked ;  "  It  requires 
time,  money,  patience,  judgment  and  good  sense,  not  to 
say  piety,  to  manage  a  Society  and  Parish  like  this,  and 
bring  everything  out  right  and  satisfactorily  to  all  con 
cerned." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dr.  Alexander,  "  and  public  men  are  often 
paid  in  hard  words  for  their  labors." 

Mr.  Street  said,  "  We  have  been  very  diligent  in  our 
exertions  to  please  and  accommodate  everybody,  even  to 
our  own  sacrifices  in  some  instances,  but  there  are  a  few 
who  seem  to  feel  uneasy  and  to  think  that  we  might  have 
done  better  by  them." 

"  Can't  please  everybody,"  said  the  Deacon.  "  There  are 
some  who  begin  the  year  grumbling,  and  end  it  grumbling." 


94  PARISH -SIDE. 

Some  one  enquired  how  much  the  slips  had  sold  for. 

"  We  now  have  seven  hundred  and  five  dollars,"  said 
Mr.  Street,  "  and  but  five  unsold  slips." 

"  Those  you  must  keep  for  the  poor  and  for  strangers," 
said  the  deacon. 

"  But  there  are  families  not  yet  accommodated." 

"  Can't  help  that,  it  wont  do  to  sell  off  the  free  seats. 
The  house  of  God'  should  never  be  all  sold  and  walled  up 
against  strangers  and  the  poor.  Now  there  is  Rev.  Mr. 

's  church  in  the  city,  where  they  say  a  poor  man  can't 

possibly  get  a  seat  for  one  Sabbath,  and  no  poor  man  thinks 
of  buying  a  slip  there,  or  of  going  there  to  church.  I  won 
der  if  that  is  considered  by  the  great  head  of  the  church  as 
the  fulfillment  of  his  gospel  and  example, — '  freely  ye  have 
received,  freely  give  ?' " 

"  "What  shall  we  do  for  those  who  yet  wish  to  purchase 

slips  r 

"  They  must  pack  close." 

"  Will  you  set  the  example  in  this  respect  *?" 

"  Will  1 1  to  be  sure  I  will.  John  Smith  can  sit  with  me 
if  he  desires  it." 

"  De'acon,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  that  wont  do  ;  if  the  house 
is  too  small,  we  must  either  colonize,  or  build  larger." 

"  We  must  build  on,  I  believe,"  he  replied,  "  but  that  will 
cost  us  heavy,  and  besides  that,  we  want  more  room,  now.'* 

"  True  ;  but  how  much  will  it  cost  to  enlarge  the 
church  ?" 

"  Fifteen  hundred  dollars,  at  least." 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  95 

"  Well,  I  am  ready  to  take  hold  of  it,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  So  am  I,"  and  "  so  am  I,"  went  round  the  room.  And 
the  further  conversation  on  that  topic  seemed  to  lead  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  must  be  a  move  made  in  the  proper 
manner,  to  secure  the  proposed  enlargement  during  the 
spring  and  summer. 

"  Well  as  we  shall  have  money  enough  with  seven  hun 
dred  dollars  from  the  slips  and  three  hundred  dollars  from 
the  subscription  list,"  said  the  deacon,  "  I  suppose  every 
body  will  agree  to  increase  the  salary  of  our  minister  1" 

"  He  deserves  to  be  well  paid,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  You  must  see  that  he  is  contented  in  that  respect  or  we 
shall  lose  him,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  Oh,  good  ministers  now  a  days  are  sought  for,  and  all 
the  towns  and  cities  are  increasing  very  much  the  salaries 
of  their  clergymen." 

"  The  expenses  of  the  times  call  for  it,"  said  Mr.  Sweet- 
ser. 

The  amount  had  been  talked  of  and  agreed  upon  before 
by  the  Society.  It  had  been  decided  in  society  meeting  to 
increase  the  salary  of  the  minister  one  hundred  dollars  in 
case  the  slips  were  rented  for  seven  hundred  dollars,  leav 
ing  it  with  the  committee  of  the  society  to  arrange  as  they 
should  think  best.  It  was  accordingly  decided  in  the  name 
of  the  Parish  to  write  to  Mr.  Williams  and  inform  him 
that  he  might  expect  one  hundred  dollars  salary  in  addition 
to  what  had  been  previous  allowed  him. 


96  PARISH-SIDE. 

During  this  conversation  the  door  opened  and  in  came 
Mr.  Park,  the  Sexton.  He  sat  down  and  warmed  himself 
by  the  fire  a  few  moments,  and  listened  attentively  to  these 
remarks.  When  a  favorable  opportunity  occurred,  he 
said, 

"  Mr.  Williams  is  too  good  a  man  to  wear  himself 
out." 

"  We  hope  he  is  careful  of  himself  and  will  not  lose  his 
strength  or  health,"  said  one. 

"  Well,  Sir,  he  is  at  work  day  and  night.  He  has  an 
evening  meeting,  three  or  four  nights  in  the  week,  and 
funerals  to  attend,  and  the  sick  to  visit.  He  earns  his 
money,  if  /  dont.  He  has  just  gone  down  home  from  a 
long  walk  to  Cap'n  Abram's,  who's  sick." 

"  Captain  Abram  sick  f 

«  Yes,  he's  on  his  last  tack,  I  fear." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  so  ?" 

"  He's  been  gitting  low  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  and 
he's  an  old  man,  d'ye  see,  who'll  stand  a  poor  chance  to  git 
up  if  he  once  gits  down." 

"  I  will  go  up  and  see  him  to-morrow,  myself,"  said  the 
deacon. 

"  He  is  a  worthy  old  man,"  said  Dr.  Alexander,  "  I  think 
his  present  illness  is  the  effect  of  old  age,  more  than  that 
of  any  incurable  disease." 

"  And  now  Mr.  Park,"  said  Mr.  Street,  "  you  think  that 
the  committee  must  increase  your  pay,  somewhat,  hey  ?" 

"  Sartain,  I  do." 


P  A  Ii  I  8  II  -  S  I  D  E  .  97 

u  Yours !"  said  the  lawyer. 

"Mine,  Sir." 

"  How  much  do  you  have  now  T' 

"  For  that  matter,  Sir,  I  have  thirty  dollars  from  the 
committee,  and  what  little  favors  I  can  git  by  ringing  the 
bell  for  funerals  and  sich  like." 

"  What  do  you  have  to  do  ?" 

"Well  not  much,  you'll  be  after  thinking,  I  'spose. 
There's  the  Sunday  work,  I  ring  the  bell  all  day,  build  the 
fires  and  keep  'em  going,  and  light  the  lamps  for  evening. 
I  leave  after  everybody  else  has  gone — being  you  see — the 
first  man  at  church  in  the  morning,  and  the  last  away  at 
night.  Then  there's  the  week  day  work ;  I  have  to  wind 
the  church  clock  once  a  week,  sweep  out  the  church  fre 
quently,  make  the  fires  on  extra  occasions,  and  be  on  hand 
at  nine  o'clock  every  evening  to  ring  the  bell." 

"  Pretty  well,  pretty  well.     And  you  have  how  much  V 

"  Thirty  dollars  a  year." 

"  Thirty  dollars  !     And  how  much  do  you  want  V 

"  I  want  fifty,  Sir." 

"  Give  it  to  him,  by  all  means,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  Why 
I  wouldn't  let  my  black  servant  do  the  work  for  that." 

The  Committee  agreed  to  Mr.  Park's  wishes.  He  should 
have  fifty  dollars  for  the  ensuing  year,  and  all  his  usual  per 
quisites. 

"  Thank  ye,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  and  now  I'll  just  step 
over  to  the  old  church  and  give  you  the  nine  o'clock  bell." 

"  There,"  said  he,  as  he  hastily  left  the  door,  and  went 


98  P  A  11 1  S  II  -  S  I  D  E . 

with  a  glad  heart  to  his  work,  "  I  told  you  so.  I  said  they 
should  raise  me  too,  and  hav'nt  they  ?  Yes,  they've  done  it. 
This  comes  of  standing  up  for  your  rights."  And  he 
turned  the  key  to  the  church  door,  and  seizing  the  bell-rope 
began  as  usual  to  ring  the  bell. 

"What  in  the  world  ails  the  old  bell?"  said  the  land 
lord  of  the  Lion,  to  his  customers. 

"  Faith,"  said  one,  "  I've  been  thinking  so  too." 

"  Why,  she's  out  of  order,  somehow,"  says  the  landlord. 

"  What  can  have  happened  to  the  bell,"  said  Mr.  Wil 
liams  to  his  wife,  "  it  don't  sound  clear  to-night.  Listen  !" 

"  Ain't  something  to  pay  witKthe  bell  ?"  inquired  Esquire 
Peters,  looking  up  to  the  other  gentleman,  who  in  turn 
looked  up  to  him,  and  all  listened. 

"  It  sounds  odd  enough,"  I  answered. 

"  Listen,  now,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  There  it  goes — '  dang.'    There  is  no  ring  to  it." 

We  all  rose,  and  went  to  the  door.  The  door  of  the  Post 
Office  was  open,  so  was  the  door  of  the  hotel,  and  of  the 
stores  opposite,  and  boys  were  in  the  street,  and  men  were 
at  the  doors,  and  all  listening,  and  all  curious. 

But  the  sexton  pulled  away,  regardless  of  the  dull  sounds 
that  struck  a  kind  of  dismay  into  many  a  heart  in  the  Par 
ish.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  and  presently  a  light  was  seen 
to  flash  from  window  to  window,  as  the  faithful  sexton  pur 
sued  his  solitary  way  up  into  the  belfry.  He  stooped 
down,  took  hold  of  the  tongue,  and  struck  it  against  the 
bell.  A  flat,  dull,  dany,  was  all  that  answered  him.  No 


THE   SEXTON    AND   HIS    BELL. 


Page  99. 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  99 

sonorous,  clear  vibrations  fell  on  his  ear.  He  held  his  lMlt 
close  to  the  sides  of  the  bell,  and  then  he  soon  traced"  a 
long,  hideous  crack,  extending  nearly  to  the  yoke. 

"  Bah !"  said  he,  « I  know'd  it.  I  knew  something  of  this 
sort  was  to  pay.  Well,  this  comes  of  luck.  Jest  as  my 
fortin  begun  better,  here  goes  a  mwfortin.  Fifteen  years 
I've  rung  this  bell,  and  it  never  sarved  me  in  such  a  manner 
afore." 

And  he  sat  down  the  light,  and  leaned  himself  on  the 
bell  frame,  his  head  bent  over,  and  one  hand  in  his  coat 
poeket,  sadly  perplexed  in  his  mind,  and  ruminating 
strangely. 

In  the  meantime  the  village  boys  began  to  cry  out, 
"She's  cracked!" 

"  The  teff,  cracked  !»  said  the  people  around  the  stores 
The  old  bell's  gin  out,"  said  a  worthy  of  the  bar-room. 
The  bell  is  cracked,"  said  the  post-master. 
"  The  Parish  bell  is  done  with,"  said  the  shop  hands  at 
the  factories,  "  it's  cracked  !" 

"Our  beautiful  bell,"  said  Mrs.  Williams,  "  it  is  surely 
broken !" 

"Broken!"  said  Mr.  Williams,  "imposs-hark  !-it  «  it 
is  broken." 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  deacon,  « the  bell  is  crocked; 
there  goes  two  hundred  dollars." 

"Yes,"  said  all,  "THE  BELL  is  CRACKED"~and  cracked  it 
was! 


CHAPTEE   XV. 

VISITING     THE     SICK. 

ON  his  return  home  from  our  evening  session,  the  deacon 
mentioned  to  Mrs.  Hartwell  the  illness  of  Captain  Abram. 
As  she  in  common  with  most  of  the  Parish,  entertained  the 
highest  respect  for  him,  the  news  was  painful  to  her,  and 
she  inquired  particularly  if  he  was  suffering  from  a  sudden 
attack  of  disease. 

"  Not  as  I  can  learn ;"  he  replied,  "  he  seems  to  have 
reached  the  period  allotted  him,  and  to  fail  simply  as  the 
aged  often  do — from  old  age." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  so  feeble,"  she  asked. 

"  Only  a  few  days  ;  but  he  grows  weaker,  constantly,  and 
if  it  is  possible,  to-morrow  I  must  see  him." 

"  I  hope  you  will  by  all  means,  and  perhaps  I  can  go  with 
you." 

-     "Do;  I  shall  be  very  glad  of  your  company.     And  the 
family  will  all  be  happy  to  see  you." 

The  morning  came,  but  Mrs.  Hartwell  was  not  able  to 
accompany  her  husband,  and  he  called  on  me  with  an  in 
vitation  to  do  so.  I  looked  at  the  gloomy  clouds,  and  shiv- 


PARIS  II -BIDE.  101 

ering  with  the  cold,  replied,  "  I  should  like  to  go,  but — " 
when  he  anticipating  me,  observed, 

"  I  am  afraid,  my  dear  Sir,  you  do  not  stir  about  enough 
for  your  own  good.  Here  are  good  buffalo  robes,  and  the 
ride  is  short.  Besides,"  said  he,  "  Captain  Abram  is  always 
glad  to  see  us,  never  more  than  when  he  knows  that  we 
have  put  ourselves  to  some  trifling  inconvenience.  A  sailor 
knows  what  it  is  to  lie  by  in  a  storm  to  render  help."  Of 
course  I  went. 

As  we  rode  along  up  the  village  street,  the  deacon  re 
marked, 

"  It  is  always  well,  if  our  circumstances  will  allow  it,  to 
visit  the  sick." 

"  I  know,"  said  T,  "  that  the  Saviour  resorted  to  the  dwell 
ings  of  the  sick,  and  consoled  them  by  his  words,  and  re 
lieved  them  by  his  power." 

"  True ;  and  he  has  informed  us,  that  in  the  day  of  judg 
ment  it  will  be  remembered  of  all  his  disciples,  among  the 
other  duties  which  they  Jiave  performed,  that  they  visited 
the  '  sick.'  '  I  was  sick,  and  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto 
me.'  And  is  our  religion  not  wanting  as  a  divine  grace, 
if  it  does  not  lead  us  to  visit  the  widow  and  the  fatherless 
in  their  affliction  ?" 

"  You  do  not  mean  that  this  is  in  itself  religion,  nor  that 
it  is  the  absolute  proof  that  we  have  it  ?" 

"  No.  But  I  think  that  if  we  are  true  Christians,  we 
shall  see  and  feel  the  obligation,  and  practice  accordingly." 

"I  do  so." 


102  PARISH-SIDE. 

"  Further,"  said  he,  "  considerable  benefit  arises  to  our 
selves  from  performing  of  this  great  duty.  It  is  food  to  the 
soul.  It  is  a  great  quickener  of  gratitude,  and  is  an  incentive 
to  prayer.  Well  does  the  word  of  God  assure  us  that  it  is 
better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning,  than  to  the  house  of 
feasting  and  assign  the  reason.  Yes,  Sir,  the  living  will  lay 
it  to  heart.  There  is  much  to  be  learnt  of  God,  much  of 
the  worth  of  probation,  much  of  the  importance  of  religion, 
the  power  of  divine  grace,  much  of  ourselves,  in  the  cham 
ber  of  the  sick." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  privilege,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  have  never 
regretted  the  rule  adopted  in  our  church,  by  which  every 
member  of  it  is  laid  under  obligation  to  make  particular  in 
quiry,  during  the  first  week  of  each  month  of  the  year,  to 
ascertain  if  there  are  any  sick  persons  in  the  Parish,  and  if 
so,  either  to  go  in  person  and  see  them,  or  send  another." 

"  That  is  the  best  rule  for  the  daily  practice  of  religion," 
he  replied,  "  that  our  church  has  ever  passed.  I  was  at  first 
rather  afraid  of  it,  for  it  seemed  to  me  we  should  fall  into  a 
form  of  duty  at  best,  if  we  adopted  the  course,  and  of  what 
we  did,  make  a  merit.  And  again,  if  it  was  carried  out, 
that  we  should,  perhaps,  all  meet  the  same  day  and  hour,  or 
many  of  us,  at  the  house  of  some  very  sick  person,  and  ac 
tually  kill  him  with  inquiries,  exhortations,  and  prayers." 

"  Very  differently  from  that,  it  seems  to  have  turned  out, 
Sir." 

"  Very.  I  find  that  one  person  at  a  time — perhaps  two 
persons  in  a  large  family — or  even  neighborhood — usually 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  103 

go  in  the  name  of  the  whole,  by  a  kind  of  common  consent, 
and  that  they  who  do  perform  the  duty  for  others,  feel 
under  the  greater  obligation  to  render  a  faithful  service. 
And,  then,  how  valuable  a  measure  this,  for  young  Christ 
ians.  They  begin  life  with  right  views  of  duty  to  their 
brethren  and  the  wrorld.  How  inconceivably  important, 
also,  in  promoting  personal  acquaintance,  and  kind,  humble, 
Christian,  deportment  towards  one  another." 

"  How  impartial,"  said  I. 

"  How  impartial,"  said  he,  "  the  rich  and  the  poor,  faring 
alike,  doing  alike." 

"  It  is  doing  much  for  the  constant  spiritual  growth  of  tho 
church,"  said  I.  - 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  an  unspeakable  relief  to  the  pastor." 

"  The  greatest  possible,"  said  I.  "  Few  persons  know 
the  exhausting  effects  of  the  pastor's  labors  of  this  sort, 
where  they  all  fall  on  him." 

"  They  are  very  severe  labors,  Sir,  not  mere  pastime." 

"  It  is  a  relief  also  to  the  deacons,"  said  I. 

"  Quite  so,  quite  so,"  said  he,  "  and  the  brethren  are  not 
as  much  afraid  of  the  office  as  formerly.  I  was  somewhat 
fearful  that  in  dividing  the  duty  up  into  so  many  parcels, 
and  making  it  the  duty  of  all,  that  what  was  no  one's  duty 
in  particular,  might  by  general  custom  be  totally  neglected. 
But  I  find  it  is  not  so." 

As  we  approached  the  house  of  Captain  Abram,  I  could 
but  reflect  on  the  goodness  and  excellent  character  of  Dea 
con  Hartweil.  How  consistent  is  he  with  his  professions  ! 


104  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

How  cheerful  and  abundant  in  labors !  How  personally 
attentive  to  all  the  calls  of  duty  !  He  is  not  a  time-server ; 
he  is  not  a  sycophant;  he  is  not  mercenary,  he  is  not  a  mere 
talker,  he  is  not  ostentatious.  His  virtue  is  the  rare  one  of 
doing  things  because  they  are  right — not  because  some  one 
else  has  done  them — not  because  some  one  else  refuses,  and 
he  must  do  them.  He  does  not  ask,  "  Is  there  not  some  one 
else  more  able  than  I  am  to  do  this  f  Nor  does  he  say, 
"  If  my  neighbors  will  do  this,  I  will."  Does  he  send  his 
minister  a  turkey  for  his  Thanksgiving  dinner,  he  has  more 
in  mind  his  minister's  gratification,  than  his  own  thanks 
therefor.  He  makes  an  exhortation  in  meeting,  but  it  is  to 
see  how  much  good  can  be  done  by  the  truth,  not  to  hear 
himself  praised  for  speaking  well.  His  prayers  are  not 
with  bashful  blushing  modesty  as  unto  men,  but  are  holy 
reverential  pleadings  with  God.  He  became  a  disciple  of 
Christ  in  early  life,  under  the  convictions  of  sin,  seeing  his 
jdanger,  duty,  and  hope.  He  has  been  ever  prominent  in 
the  church,  because  willing  to  do  his  duty,  not  because  of 
any  display  of  vain  glory,  or  bold  assumption  of  place.  He 
has  been  a  reprover  of  wickedness,  without  unmeaning  se 
verity.  He  is  a  cheerful  Christian,  without  either  fanaticism 
or  ecstasies. 

He  commenced  his  religious  life  by  visiting  the  sick  and 
by  relieving,  as  far  as  in  his  power,  the  griefs  and  trials  of 
the  suffering.  By  his  judicious  and  faithful  conversation 
and  advice,  as  well  as  by  his  prayers,  he  has  relieved  many 
a  wounded  mind.  Who  can  know  the  amount  of  good  that 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  105 

he  may  have  accomplished  in  the  course  of  a  long  life,  de 
voted  to  the  cause  of  the  Redeemer  !  Will  not  the  revela 
tions  of  the  great  day  show  that  one  such  as  he  on  earth, 
has  been  as  the  salt  of  many  generations,  as  the  good  seed 
of  the  precious  harvest,  of  the  earth  ! 

To  visit  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  in  their  affliction, 
to  cheer  the  aged,  support  the  weak,  to  pray  over  and  en 
courage  the  dying,  are  duties  that  are  required  of  all  those 
who  hope  for  the  approbation  of  their  judge  at  the  last. 

Captain  Abram  had  been  for  many  years  a  truthful,  hum 
ble,  patient  disciple.  True  he  was  more  than  sixty  years 
old  when  he  united  with  the  church.  But  he  is  now  at  an 
advanced  age,  and  rapidly,  as  it  is  thought,  approaching  his 
end.  He  has  had  many  of  the  ups  and  downs — the  f&vors 
and  frowns,  of  life.  His  father  lived  at  Gloucester,  or  any 
where  "  all  along  the  shore"  thereabouts,  and  was  a  coaster. 
Abram  often  accompanied  him  in  his  schooner,  and  became 
an  expert  young  sailor.  But  in  a  great  gale  the  schooner 
was  wrecked  almost  in  sight  of  home,  and  Abram  lost  his 
father.  He  was  himself  preserved,  his  father  having,  with 
his  own  hands,  lashed  him  to  the  mast  and  covered  him 
from  the  gale  with  his  own  jacket.  Before  he  could  secure 
himself,  however,  he  was  struck  down  and  washed  over 
board.  Abram  was  then  fifteen  years  of  age  and  was  able 
to  do  much  for  the  comfort  and  support  of  his  widowed 
mother.  She  would  seem  to  have  been  a  pious  and  humble 
Christian,  who,  in  her  afflictions,  still  experienced  the  conso 
lations  of  religion.  Abram  continued  to  follow  the  sea 
5* 


106  PARISH-SIDE. 

after  the  death  of  his  father,  his  mother  being  spared  to 
him  till  he  was  thirty.  He  was  captain  of  an  English  tra 
der  from  his  twenty-fifth  year  till  over  thirty,  and  after 
wards  repeatedly  "  doubled  the  Capes."  On  the  ocean  his 
life  was  that  of  a  sober,  consistent  man,  without  the  grace 
of  religion.  He  accumulated  in  the  East  India  trade  a 
very  respectable  fortune  and  owned  a  handsome  residence 
in  Boston,  where  after  his  mother's  death,  he  removed  and 
was  married.  When  about  forty  years  of  age,  he  lost  his 
ship  by  fire,  and  himself  and  crew  barely  escaped  death. 
Nearly  all  his  property  was  lost.  His  house  was  sold,  and 
he  had  to  begin  life  again.  His  excellent  character  as  a 
master  soon  secured  him  another  vessel,  but  she  foundered 
in  a  gale.  He  was  appointed  captain  of  another,  and  made 
several  voyages  in  her,  one  to  Calcutta,  one  to  the  Pacific, 
taking  with  him  to  Calcutta  his  wife  and  two  children.  He 
never  regained  his  fortune,  and  at  sixty,  his  wife  and  child 
ren  urging  him  to  leave  the  seas,  he  at  last  reluctantly  con 
sented.  His  wife  soon  after  became  unwell,  and  in  a  year 
from  that  time  was  taken  from  him.  His  oldest  son,  who 
had  often  accompanied  him  on  his  voyages,  soon  followed 
her,  and  in  a  year  or  two,  one  of  his  daughters.  In  the 
meantime  his  second  daughter,  Ella,  having  married  and 
removed  to  Edgefield,  he  was  induced  to  follow  her,  and 
accept  of  a  home  with  her.  Here  he  has  resided  for  more 
than  twenty  years,  having,  within  that  period,  followed  to 
the  grave  Ella's  husband  and  her  beautiful  baby  boy.  One 
son,  his  youngest,  is  now  upon  the  seas,  and  is,  at  the  age 


PARISH- 8  IDE.  107 

of  twenty-two,  master  of  a  ship  in  the  Liverpool  trade. 
He  has  been  in  the  Pacific  to  Canton,  home  by  Good  Hope, 
and  around  by  Cape  Horn.  With  much  of  his  father's 
nautical  boldness  and  skill  he  has  also  a  full  measure  of 
the  paternal  coolness  and  self-possession  in  the  hour  of 
peril,  and  more  of  that  Clipper  idolatry  and  enterprize 
which  belongs  as  much  to  the  age  as  to  the  man.  Enter- 
prizing,  youthful  and  scientific,  he  is  withal,  moral,  grave, 
intelligent,  modest.  In  the  storms  he  sees  some  hand  be 
hind  the  clouds,  and  fancies  that  he  hears  there  his  mother's 
prayers  ;  and  anon  his  father's  "  Steady  I  all  well  /"  on  the 
starboard  quarter.  In  his  nineteenth  year,  when  mate  of 

the  ship ,  he  lost  everything  but  life  in   the  bay  of 

M by  fire.     The  crew  were  all  saved.     Once  or  twice 

shipwrecked,  he  yet  clings  to  the  dangerous  element  and 
gives  promise  of  a  career  as  useful  as  it  is  bold  and  varie 
gated. 

His  brother  William  and  the  widowed  Ella  take  care  of  the 
father's  old  age,  rendered  cheerful  by  a  hopeful  piety  en 
joyed  since  the  death  of  his  wife.  With  a  little  property 
only,  in  a  quiet,  cheerful  cottage,  and  that  not  out-looking 
on  the  sea-waves,  Captain  Abram  has  now  passed  into  the 
circle  of  years,  beyond  that  of  fourscore,  and  is  near  the 
waters  of  the  great,  greater,  greatest  Ocean,  where  his 
barque  will  sail,  we  trust,  in  an  endless  breeze,  floating  on 
an  eternally  swelling  tide,  into  havens  and  harbors  of  God's 
most  blessed  rest. 


CHAPTEE  XYI. 

THE  SUBJECT   CONTINUED THE   RULING   PASSION. 

WILLIAM  and  Ella  received  us  kindly,  and  gently  con 
ducted  us  to  tho  sick  room  of  their  father.  We  found  him 
cushioned  up  in  a  large  rocking  chair,  one  hand  holding  his 
staff,  and  the  other  extended  upon  the  open  family  Bible 
that  was  besides  him  on  a  small  table.  We  were  surprised 
to  see  his  large  and  stout  frame  so  very  much  reduced,  and 
to  witness  the  nervous  action  of  his  limbs,  and  the  pallor 
of  his  countenance.  But  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  us  to 
feel  the  intelligent  pressure  of  his  hands,  to  know  that  he 
was  yet  clear  in  thought,  and  firm  in  will  as  ever.  With  a 
smile  that  we  were  well  accustomed  to,  he  received  us  and 
enquired  kindly  respecting  ourselves  and  families.  We  ex 
pressed  our  sorrow  at  his  illness,  and  the  hope  that  he  was 
free  from  bodily  anguish. 

"  I  am  ill,  I  am  weak,  and  daily  fainting,  my  good  breth 
ren,  but  God  is  very  kind  to  me,  and  the  pain  I  endure  is 
so  slight,  that  I  should  not  know  myself  to  be  ill  from  it 
alone." 

"  That  may  well  be  considered  a  mercy,"  said  the  dea- 


PARISH -SIDE.  101) 

con,  "  for  it  lies  quite  in  the  power  of  God  to  visit  us  with 
great  physical  suffering." 

"  Oh,  yes,  his  power  is  infinite.  We  are  but  worms  of 
the  dust.  He  could  visit  my  aged  frame  with  keenest  sen 
sations  of  pain,  and  make  me  every  moment  to  desire 
death  like  Job, — and  it  would  be  all  right  in  God  to  do 
this.  I  am  a  sinner,  a  great  trangressor,  unworthy  of 
his  goodness,  the  least  expression  of  it  should  overwhelm 
me  with  gratitude,  and  lead  me  forever  to  praise  him.  I 
am  dependent  on  him  for  my  breath  every  moment,  and 
for  my  hope  continually.  May  he  not  do  as  he  will  with 
his  own  !  Shall  he  give  me  an  account  of  his  ways  ?  I  re 
joice  while  I  tremble  at  his  power  !" 

"  The  Lord  will  do  that  which  is  best  for  us,"  said  the 
deacon. 

"  I  have  often  thought  so,"  he  answered. 

"  It  is  a  great  relief  to  my  father,"  said  Ella,  "  to  sit  as 
he  now  does  and  read  his  Bible." 

"  And  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  have  my  two  children  with 
me,  to  help  me  find  what  I  sometimes  most  need  and  desire 
in  it," 

"  Why,  father,  we  quite  as  frequently  ask  you  for  such 
help  as  you  us." 

"  I  am  not  certain,  still  it  is  unimportant.  My  mind 
is  daily  refreshed  by  the  reading  of  this  word,  which, 
alas !  too  many  seem  to  despise — which  to  others  is 
denied." 

"  An  inexpressible  treasure,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  is  the  word  of 


110  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

God.  What  were  life  to  us  without  it,  even  the  longest 
life  ever  enjoyed  by  man  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sir,  a  blank,  a  waste.  Without  this  chart  we  don't 
know  the  seas  we  are  in,  and  must  of  course  often  suffer 
shipwreck.  I  should  consider  my  barque  just  ready  to 
founder,  and  all  hope  to  perish,  were  it  not  for  the  Bible." 

"  And  now  you  can  see  the  straight  path  to  heaven  ?" 
asked  the  deacon. 

"  Yes  !  joyful  and  transporting  view.  I  see  it — the  same 
path  that  Jacob  trod,  the  same  that  David  took,  that  all  the 
righteous  walk  in,  that  Jesus  the  Redeemer  has  illuminated 
afresh.  The  gospel  is  precious  to  me  now.  It  has  been  to 
a  considerable  extent  for  several  years.  Yet  I  regret  my 
neglect  of  it  for  fifty  years  of  my  life,  and  that  a  very  re 
sponsible,  tempted,  and  dangerous  mode  of  life,  peculiarly 
needing  its  guidance." 

"  You  seem,  father,  to  realise  the  presence  and  support  of 
your  Saviour  ?"  inquired  Ella. 

"  I  think  so,  my  daughter." 

"  Have  you  a  love  towards  all  the  brethren,  such  as  we 
often  speak  of  in  prayer  and  conference  ?"  inquired  Deacon 
Hartwell. 

"  They  seem  very  precious  to  me,  for  the  sake  of  the 
IMAGE  they  bear." 

"  And  you  do  not  feel  afraid,  father,  of  dying  ?"  said 
again  the  soft  voice  of  Ella. 

"  Oh !  no  my  child.  Death  is  to  me  no  spectre  of  horror, 
the  grave  is  no  terror.  The  Saviour  has  slept  in  it." 


PARIS  II  -SIDE. 


"Do  you,"  inquired  the  deacon,  "feel  resigned  wholly  to 
the  will  of  God—  can  you  freely  give  up  all  things—  your- 
self  —  your  children  —  your  all  ?" 

"  I  hope  so—  I  endeavor  to.  I  would  like  once  more  to— 
to  —  see  —  " 

"  Never  mind,  father,  it  may  be  so  yet." 

"  May  it,  my  child  1     I  fear  it  may  not  be." 

"  He  is  thinking  of  my  absent  brother,"  said  she. 

We  replied,  that  we  thought  it  probable. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  having  recovered  his  self-possession,  "  if  I 
could  once  more  embrace  my  son,  my  youngest,  my  Benja 
min,  (next  to  William,)  I  should,  I  think,  have  nothing  more 
to  desire  on  earth  for  myself." 

A  tear  ran  down  his  cheek,  and  as  he  brushed  it  off,  he 
said,  "The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done." 

Ella  now  left  the  room,  and  soon  after  conducted  in  Mrs. 
Williams  and  Elizabeth  Burgess.  The  aged  invalid  wel 
comed  them  warmly. 

'  Ah  !"  said  he,  «  I  am  doubly  obliged  to  you,  and  to  you 
all,  for  coming  to  sec  me  to-day.  This  is  my  birth-day.  I 
am  to-day  eighty-one  years  of  age,  thanks  be  to  God."  And 
the  tears  bedewed  his  venerable  face,  and  all  of  us  wept. 

Elizabeth  approached  him  on  his  right  side,  and  gently 
placing  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  said, 

"  I  give  you  joy,  Captain  Abram,  that  you  have  lived  to 
see  this  day." 

"My  daughter  Ella  could  wish  me  the  same  with  no 


112  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

sweeter  voice,  my  dear,  and  there,"  said  he,  as  he  turned 
and  kissed  her,  "  is  the  old  sailor's  blessing." 

Elizabeth  smiled,  soothing  him  with  quiet  little  mess 
ages,  and  picking  the  lint  from  his  wrapper,  she  evidently 
trembled  with  some  concealed  agitation,  and  soon  withdrew 
to  a  window.  In  a  moment  she  returned  among  us,  and 
seemed  as  calm  and  cheerful  as  before. 

We  all  congratulated  our  sick  friend  on  his  ^having  been 
brought  to  see  the  commencement  of  another  year  of  his 
life. 

"  We  have  all  been  taken  quite  by  surprise  at  the  an 
nouncement  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Williams. 

"  It  is  *  THE  LAST  OF  EARTH'  to  me,"  he  answered.  And 
then  he  continued  :  "  But  this  mortal  must  put  on  immor 
tality,  this  corruptible  put  on  incorruption.  *  *  *  And 
then  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  written, 
Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory.  I  find  myself  comforted 
by  these  words,  although  life  is  sweet  even  to  the  aged. 
Earth  seems  but  a  short  world  to  go  through,  and  still  it  is 
of  great  moment ;  for  we  read,  '  And  as  we  have  borne  the 
image  of  the  earthy,  we  shall  also  bear  the  image  of  the 
heavenly.'  Great  distinction  is  conferred  on  us  who  have 
this  image  of  the  earthy,  especially  if  we  have  the  redeemed 
features  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  has  gone  into  heaven  to 
prepare  for  us  the  mansions  of  glory." 

It  afforded  us  all  the  highest  possible  pleasure  to  witness 
the  calmness  of  this  venerable  man,  so  near  his  end  ;  and  to 
be  in  his  sick  room  reminded  us  of  the  triplet : — 


PARISH-SIDE.  113 

"  The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fato, 
Is  privileged  beyond  the  common  walk 
Of  virtuous  life,  quite  in  the  verge  of  heaven." 

To  him  the  night  of  life  was  as  the  dawning  of  day  in  the 
bright  east  of  his  new  world. 

The  wind  sighed  around  the  cottage.  "  Ah  !"  said  he, 
"  a  storm !  May  the  boy  make  the  i  Hook'  in  time  !  My 
brethren  you  will  pray  with  me  that  my  faith  fail  not  ?" 

"  It  will  be  quite  agreeable  to  my  father,"  said  William, 
"  if  you  will  pray  with  him,  Deacon  Hartwell,  before  you 
leave." 

The  Deacon  complied  with  their  request,  and  we  all  felt 
that  it  was  good  to  be  there,  and  to  send  our  thoughts  away 
to  the  mercy-seat. 

"There  is  a  place  where  Jesus  sheds 

The  oil  of  gladness  on  our  heads  ; 
A  place,  than  all  besides  more  sweet, 
It  is  the  blood-bought  mercy-seat." 

When  this  ceremony  was  finished,  William  was  called 
out  to  speak  with  Mr.  Sweetser,  who,  on  passing,  inquired 
hew  the  Captain  had  passed  the  night,  and  offered  to  watch 
with  him  the  next  night  if  desired. 

The  ladies  began  to  take  their  leave — we  were  all  about 
rising  to  depart,  when  the  sound  of  wheels  driven  rapidly 
to .  the  door,  arrested  our  movements  and  attention.  The 
next  moment  a  pleasant  looking  young  man  leaped  from 
the  carriage,  and  before  any  one  could  stop  him,  the  sailor 


114  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

"  BOY"  of  the  dying  Captain  was  pressing  his  father's  heart 
to  his. 

"  Kris  /"  faltered  the  veteran  through  his  tears. 

"  Father  /"  said  the  son. 

"We  were  overcome  with  the  scene.  I  thought  Elizabeth, 
who  trembled  like  a  leaf,  would  sink  to  the  floor.  She 
seemed  to  me  also  unnaturally  pale  and  excited.  We  had 
all  seen  "the  young  man  repeatedly,  for  he  oft  came  and 
passed  a  day  or  two  with  his  father  when  his  vessel  was  in 
port,  and  recovering  from  the  emotion  were  waiting  to  greet 
him,  when  the  father  looking  up  with  a  smile  of  love  on 
his  face,  and  with  what  seemed  to  us,  the  most  perfect  com 
posure  as  he  held  his  son  a  little  away  from  him — said  to 
him, 

"  And  what  for  a  run  had  ye,  now  ?" 

«  Good,  Sir." 

"  And  the  ship  T 

"  Behaved  well,  Sir." 

"  How  long  a  run  ?" 

"  We  were  eighteen  days,  Sir,  from  light  to  light ;  left 
the  channel  in  a  gale ;  had  westerly  winds,  some  rough 
water  most  the  passage  ;  weathered  a  fierce  gale  we  had  in 
latitude  42°  26',  longitude  50°  35' ;  made  the  Hook  yester 
day  morning  at  two,  dock  at  ten ;  passed  in  ahead  of  the 
Arrow,  two  days  start  of  us  at  port." 

"  Christopher !"  exclaimed  the  excited  Captain,  "  its  a 
rough  world  ye  sail  through,  seek  the  great  PILOT  while  ho 
can  be  found.  It's  good,  my  son,  to  die  ashore,  good  to 


PARISH-SIDE.  115 

have  your  grave  among  your  kindred,  where  it  can  be 
found.  But  Kris,  I  would  give,  if  I  had  it,  a  continent  of 
shore  only  to  have  stood  with  ye  at  the  helm  of  the 
*  George'  in  the  gale  you  mention  !" 

"  Ah !  Father,  father,"  cried  the  son,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot,  and  shading  his  brow  with  his  hand,  though 
struggling  to  retain  his  composure,  at  least  to  avoid  losing 
all  self-command.  "  Father,"  he  cried,  "  and  truly  I  would 
have  given  another  to  have  had  you,  but  father,  you  are 
near — near  to— to — " 

" — PORT,  my  son;  sailing  large  ;  I've  weathered  many  a 
gale,  and  have  come  near  my  last  anchorage." 

"  And  this,"  thought  I,  and  thought  we  all  as  our  eyes 
met,  and  the  last  uttered  desire  of  the  old  sailor  was  yet 
ringing  in  our  ears  and  producing  a  common  sensation  in 
our  hearts.  "  This  is  none  other  than — 

" the  ruling  passion, 

Strong  in  death " 


CHAPTEE   XVII. 

BENEVOLENT     SOCIETIE  S — C  OLLECTIONS. 

THE  cracking  of  the  bell  was  a  very  serious  mishap  to 
the  Society,  and  it  had  an  immediate  disheartening  effect. 
However,  after  a  little  time  had  been  spent  in  bewailing 
the  circumstance,  the  Parish  sat  about  the  work  of  taking 
down  the  bell  and  sending  it  away  to  be  recast.  Mr.  Wil 
liams  generously  came  forward  and  expressed  a  willingness 
to  relinquish  the  proposed  addition  to  his  salary  for  that 
year,  as  this  was  an  unusual  and  unlocked  for  disaster. 

"  No,  no,  no !"  said  everybody  ;  "  keep  it,  there'll  be 
some  other  unexpected  trouble  next  year  ;  keep  it,  the  So 
ciety  are  able  to  meet  their  expenses." 

Mr.  Park,  the  Sexton,  said  he  "  'sposed  he  should  be 
obliged  to  throw  off  ten  dollars  from  his  salary,  any  how." 
The  committee  did  not  require  him  to  do  even  that. 

Two  hundred  dollars  being  the  lowest  sum  that  the  re 
casting  of  the  bell  and  the  incidental  expenses  would 
amount  to,  a  committee  was  raised  who  went  all  over  the 
Parish  with  a  subscription  paper  and  collected  it. 

Notwithstanding  these  extra  charges,  the  collections  in 


PARISH-SIDE.  117 

behalf  of  the  benevolent  societies  went  on  as  usual.  The 
amount  that  was  raised  for  the  Bible  Society  was  larger 
than  it  had  been  for  two  years  past.  The  appeal  of  tho 
American  Board  for  Foreign  Missions  was  promptly  met, 
over  two  hundred  dollars  being  contributed.  (I  generally 
call  this  Society  the  " Foreign  Missionary  Society"  for 
though  it  ought  not  so  to  be,  there  are  a  great  many  in  our 
Parish  who  do  not  know  what  is  meant  by  the  "  American 
Board"  One  very  excellent  woman  in  our  Parish  told 
another  to  whom  she  was  earnestly  endeavoring  to  impart 
information  on  the  subject,  that  the  "  American  Board"  was 
only  the  name  given  to  the  staging  or  platform  on  which 
the  Foreign  Missionary  Society  did  its  public  business. 
She  said  that  it  was  purely  national,  and  the  Society  used 
"  American"  instead  of  other  "  boards."  And  a  good  many 
others  of  our  Parish,  if  they  don't  commit  so  gross  a 
blunder  as  this,  do  not  know  what  is  meant  by  the 
phrase,  "American  Board."  They,  however,  understand 
perfectly  well  what  is  meant  by  "  Foreign  Missions." 
When  I  collect  money  for  the  "  Board"  therefore,  I  do  it 
in  the  name  of  " Foreign  Missions"  and  everybody  under 
stands  me.  Our  minister  used  to  give  out  notices  of  the 
collections  for  the  "  American  Board."  He  now  says  only 

this,  "  on  the  next  Sabbath  the  Rev.  Mr.  A.  B will 

preach  to  us  on  the  subject  of  Foreign  Missions,"  and  he  is 
perfectly  well  understood.)  This  money  was  raised  by  ap 
pointing  solicitors  who  went  over  the  whole  Parish  and 
made  application  personally  to  every  member  of  the 


118  PARISH-SIDE. 

church  wad  society.  We  were  now  to  make  an  annual  ef 
fort  in  behalf  of  the  American  Home  Missionary  Society. 
The  claims  of  this  interesting  branch  of  benevolence  are 
highly  regarded  by  most  persons  among  us.  The  feeling 
had  been  rising  for  two  or  three  years,  that  we  must  do 
more  for  our  own  country,  if  no  less  for  the  world.  On 
the  Sabbath  next  following  the  sale  of  the  slips  and  the  dis 
aster  to  the  bell,  a  very  interesting  and  a  deeply  affecting 
sermon  was  preached  to  us  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Belnap,  on  the 
sufferings  of  home  missionaries,  and  the  duty  of  the  church 
to  relieve  them.  He,  in  the  course  of  his  remarks,  ob 
served  that  the  sufferings  of  home  missionaries  in  respect 
of  the  comforts  of  a  convenient  and  well  secured  house, 
whether  it  were  a  cabin  or  a  framed  dwelling  ;  the  conven 
iences  of  congregations  near  at  hand  to  preach  to ;  the 
supply  of  necessary  food  and  clothing ;  the  absolute  want 
of  money,  and  the  many  disheartening  circumstances  from 
the  unfixed  and  rude  state  of  society  in  the  frontier  settle 
ments,  could  never  be  so  published  and  made  known  to  the 
churches  and  the  world  as  to  give  a  full  and  faithful  portrai 
ture  of  them ;  "  they  must  be  experienced  to  be  under 
stood."  And  if  the  accounts  which  were  written  by  the 
missionaries  themselves  could  be  all  published,  and  then 
read  even  with  beating  hearts  and  streaming  eyes,  "  yet 
would  it  be  impossibe"  said  he,  "  to  feel  or  to  know  but  a 
small  moiety  of  those  bitter  trials  that  are  experienced  by 
your  missionaries  in  the  far-off  American  wilderness."  He 
was  "  glad  to  learn  that  a  little  book  published  by  the 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  Hi) 

American  Sunday  School  Union,  entitled  The  Prairie  Miss 
ionary,  had  been  so  generally  read  among  the  people." 
Could  he  "  but  be  sure  that  all  had  read  it,  he  would  be 
willing  to  say  no  more,  they  must  be  already  enlisted  in 
the  cause  of  these  suffering  missionaries.  They  live"  said 
he,  "many  of  them,  neglected,  frequently  despised  and 
ridiculed,  simply  because  they  preach  the  gospel  of  Christ. 
They  are  in  want  of  a  tight  cabin,  of  food,  of  raiment,  of 
friends.  They  are  embarrassed  often  with  little,  not  un- 
frequently  with  large  debts.  They  are  sick,  but  who  shall 
help  them  ?  They  are  far  from  their  own  friends,  they 
know  not  any  who  are  willing  and  able  to  relieve  them,  yet 
they  cannot  resign  the  glorious  work  of  preaching  the  gos 
pel  of  Christ."  He  mentioned  several  cases  of  personal 
suffering,  and  yet  of  devotion  to  the  cause,  and  so  interest 
ed  his  audience  that  tears  flowed  freely  around  the  church. 
He  then  entreated  them,  as  they  valued  beyond  all  price 
their  own  quiet  homes,  and  their  own  gospel  privileges,  to 
open  wide  their  hearts  towards  God's  suffering  and  toiling 
ones  afar  off.  Ho  plainly  represented  the  duty  of  denying 
ourselves  for  the  good  of  others,  and  made  seem  of  small 
worth  indeed  the  objects  and  pursuits  of  men,  that  tend 
only  to  selfish  gratification. 

The  pastor  added  to  these  remarks  a  short  and  earnest 
exhortation,  and  then  gave  out  the  names  of  the  persons  in 
the  society,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  would  call  on  the 
Parish  for  contributions.  Never  before  was  there  gathered 
so  large  a  sum  for  this  cause  in  uiir  Parish.  It  was  over 


120  PARISH-SIDE. 

one  hundred  and  ninety  dollars.  The  solicitors  were  very 
faithful  and  diligent.  It  took  a  great  deal  of  their  time, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  both  offered  to  assist  them,  and 
said  that  it  was  truly  a  great  sacrifice  of  time,  as  well  as 
a  great  labor,  to  collect  the  money.  But  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  were  very  earnest  in  their  work. 

"  We  can't  suffer  as  much  as  our  poor  missionaries  do," 
said  they,  "  even  though  we  were  to  labor  very  hard." 

"  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  ME,"  replied  Mr. 
Williams,  in  the  language  of  the  Redeemer  of  men. 

Along  with  these  things,  it  was  always  agreeable  to  me 
to  notice  how  much  engaged  the  best  part  of  the  Parish 
seemed  to  be  in  the  Sabbath-School.  Mr.  Williams  and  his 
wife  took  a  deep  interest  in  this  work  themselves.  Mrs. 
Williams  assisted  materially  in  arranging  the  classes,  and 
in  inducing  persons  to  connect  themselves  with  the  Bible 
classes ;  also,  in  the  arrangement  and  management  of  the 
library.  Her  husband  frequently  tarried  after  service,  and 
prayed,  or  addressed  the  children.  There  were  sometimes 
thirty  or  forty  ladies  and  gentlemen  engaged  as  teachers. 
They  held  a  weekly  teachers'  meeting  for  their  own  im 
provement.  They  procured  books  and  newspapers  for  the 
school.  They  gathered  in  the  poor  and  idle  children  of  the 
place,  and  created  a  great  interest  in  the  society  in  favor  of 
this  most  useful  branch  of  religion. 

While  the  existence  of  such  an  institution  in  the  society, 
and  within,  as  it  were,  the  embrace  of  the  church,  could  not 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  121 

otherwise  than  greatly  increase  the  care  and  solicitude  of 
the  pastor,  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  activity  and  self- 
denial  and  actual  labor  of  so  many  worthy  and  talented 
persons  in  the  society,  co-operating  zealously  with  her  in 
the  objects  of  it,  greatly  relieved  him  of  that  which  might 
otherwise  have  been  too  great  a  burden.  It  was  delightful 
to  witness  the  love  of  the  children  for  their  teachers,  and 
the  love  and  respect,  and  gratitude  of  all  towards  the  pas 
tor.  This  was  ever  to  me  a  beautiful  and  truthful  repre 
sentation  of  a  sheep-fold,  where  the  tender  lambs  were 
watched  over  by  careful  shepherds. 

6 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

PRIVATE     JOURNAL — WEST     EDGE  FIELD. 

February. — My  heart  is  often  pained  when  I  think  of  the 
poor  church  at  West  Edgefield.  While  we  are  in  affluence 
and  in  much  enjoyment,  though  intensely  occupied,  they  are 
in  circumstances  of  great  depression.  Their  numbers  are 
few,  their  young  men  all  leave  them,  and  go  down  into  the 
factory  villages  or  to  the  city,  and  they  have  hard  work  to 
pay  their -minister  the  small  salary  they  promised  him.  He 
is  a  very  worthy  man,  although  he  is  not  so  good  to  man 
age  and  husband  his  affairs  as  many  others  are.  Neither  is 
he  a  very  interesting  preacher,  which  is  a  pity,  for  he  is  a 
very  finished  writer,  and  sermonizer.  He  is  considerably 
in  debt,  and  his  society  seem  unable  to  relieve  him  of  it. 
He  is  of  course  much  embarrassed  by  these  circumstances, 
and  they  no  less  so.  As  far  as  I  can  learn  the  facts,  both 
pastor  and  people  entertain  a  regard  for  each  other,  and 
such  an  one  as  is  consistent  with  their  mutual  dependence 
and  helplessness,  and  it  would  not  contribute  at  all  to  re 
lieve  their  embarrassments  to  dissolve  the  relation.  We 
have  promised,  therefore,  to  help  them  what  we  can,  and 


PARISH -SIDE.  123 

also  have  advised  them  to  continue  along  as  they  can,  put 
ting  their  whole  trust  in  God.  We  are  now  making  up  a 
contribution  of  one  hundred  dollars  for  them,  and  hope  it 
will  tend  to  relieve  their  present  necessities.  The  church  at 
West  Edgefield  ought  to  be  sustained.  It  is  one  of  the  old 
est  churches  in  the  State,  and  it  has  been  the  mother  church 
of  several  in  this  vicinity.  Many  and  many  are  they  who 
have  taken  letters  from  her,  and  gone  to  other  churches. 
Eminent  ministers  have  resided  and  officiated  there.  A 
large  number  of  young  theologians  have  studied  there. 
Many  intelligent  men  of  business  in  the  world,  were  edu 
cated  in  its  ancient-looking  academy.  It  is  a  quiet,  rural 
town  ;  one  of  beauteous  scenery,  with  its  ever-varying  land 
scapes,  its  hill  and  dale,  its  winding  streams,  its  solitary 
walks,  its  sunlit  headlands ;  and  yet,  it  is  no  place  of  BUSI 
NESS  !  Alas !  alas !  All  the  good,  and  all  the  beautiful 
and  peaceful  in  nature,  must  now  a  days  be  sacrificed  to  the 
idea  of  "  BUSINESS  !"  No  railroad  goes  there.  No  work 
shops  eject  steam  there,  no  heavily  loaded  trucks  drawn  by 
jaded,  wheezing  horses,  rumble  through  its  streets.  The 
old  four-horse  coach,  also,  is  laid  aside.  A  post-boy  in  a 
wagon  brings  the  mail ;  the  travel  is  now  all  up  the  vallies 
by  rail  roads.  Yes,  I  grant,  that  now,  as  it  is  likely,  the 
West  Edgefield  Parish  will  barely  hold  its  own,  and  that, 
too,  with  considerable  help  from  abroad.  But  who  ever 
saw  a  more  quiet  and  beautiful  little  village.  Here  is  a 
wide  common,  and  at  one  corner  on  the  south,  is  the  quaint 
little  academy,  with  its  miniature  steeple  and  bell,  all  under 


[24  PARIS  II  -SIDE. 

the  spreading  arms  of  venerable  elms.     And  on  the  same 
side  of  the  common  is  the  old-fashioned,  but  good-looking 
church,  and  close  by  it  a  white  cottage,  and  further  along 
a  red  one.     And  on.  the  opposite  side  of  the  green  is  the  de- 
mure  looking  Parsonage,  with  its  gambrel  roof,  and  stone 
door-step  and  walk,  its  picket  fence  around  the  yard,  .1 
large  red  barn,  its  old-fashioned  well-swoop  and  bucket. 
There  are  green  blinds  on  the  windows  of  the  house,  and 
the  white  chimneys  are  topped  out  with  black  ;  and  smoke 
from  the  rock  maple,  or  hickory  fire  is  rolling  from  out 
them.    Tall  trees,  planted  a  century  ago,  overtop  the  edi 
fice,  and  in  summer  give  the  grounds  a  delightful  coolness 
and  fragrance.     Just  a  little  up  the  way  is  the  store  and 
post-office,  and  then  the  hotel,  with  its,  piazza;  and  far  up 
the  street,  is  the  square  old  dwelling  of  the  deacon. 

***** 
But  alas  !  for  West  Edgefield,  I  fear  it  is  going  down. 


lS<.-Captain  Abram  is  dead!  The  aged,  de 
votedly  pious  one,  who  never,  when  able  to  be  abroad,  de 
serted  the  sanctuary,  has  gone  from  this,  to  a  better  world. 
How  many  during  the  past  year,  have  left  us,  some  pre- 
pared,  we  hope,  for  their  great  change,  but  others,  the 
majority  we  fear,  taken  away  in  their  wickedness!  We 
have  closed  the  aged  disciple's  eyes  in  their  last  sleep,  and 
earth  has  lost  one  more  of  her  humble  and  contrite  ones. 


CHAPTEE   XIX. 

JOURNAL    RESUME  D — A    SPLIT. 

MARCH  10th. — We  are  again  favored  with  the  cheerful 
ringing  of  our  church  bell.  It  has  been  re-cast,  returned, 
and  elevated.  The  Sexton  is  in  fine  spirits,  and  vows  it 
sounds  better  than  the  old  one.  And  everybody  seems  to 
greet  its  return  with  unaffected  pleasure.  Last  Monday, 
Angeline  Hartwell,  Evelina  Street,  Mary  Peters,  and  Har 
riet  Jones,  accompanied  by  three  or  four  young  gentlemen, 
and  escorted  by  the  Sexton,  went  up  into  the  belfry  and 
crowned  the  bell  with  a  beautiful  wreath  of  evergreen.  A 
great  many  have  been  there  since  to  see  it. 

At  last  it  has  been  decided  by  the  Society,  in  a  special 
meeting  called  for  the  purpose,  to  enlarge  and  improve  the 
church  at  an  expense  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  a  commit 
tee  of  five  has  been  appointed,  who  have  instructions  to  seo 
the  work  commenced  as  early  as  practicable.  The  whole 
house  is  to  be  painted  as  well  on  the  outside  as  the  inside, 
a  great  many  improvements  are  spoken  of,  but  the  com 
mittee  will  do  as  they  think  best,  as  far  as  the  general  plan 
is  concerned. 


126  PARISH-SIDE. 

I  am  sorry  that  Colonel  Arrs  is  so  dissatisfied,  and  with 
him  Mr.  Harley.  The  Colonel  and  Deacon  Hartwell  had 
quite  a  dispute  at  the  Society's  meeting.  The  Colonel  said 
the  old  house  was  good  enough  and  large  enough  ;  that  the 
Society  was'nt  growing ;  that  the  "  Hollow"  would  soon 
run  away  from  us,  and  we  had  better  look  well  to  ourselves 
before  launching  out  into  more  expenses. 

The  deacon  replied  severely.  He  thought  a  man  who 
could'nt  be  satisfied  unless  he  had  one  of  the  best  slips  in 
the  church,  even  though  he  took  it  away  from  somebody 
else,  ought  to  see  the  importance  of  a  larger  house.  And 
as  to  the  "  Hollow"  running  away  with  the  old  town  and 
Society,  he  thought  that  not  all  who  were  present  would 
ever  live  to  see  that  day. 

The  Colonel  said  in  reply,  that  a  good  many  in  the  place 
were  disposed  to  form  another  society.  For  his  own  part 
he  had  been  born  and  educated  an  Episcopalian,  but  he  had 
conformed  to  the  habits  of  the  people  here  and  joined  with 
them.  He  made  no  secret  of  his  preferences,  nor  of  his 
intentions.  When  able,  he  would,  God  helping  him,  try  to 
found  such  a  church  here.  He  said  there  were  others  in 
the  Society  disposed,  though  different  from  himself,  to  a 
change,  either  to  a  Unitarian,  or  a  Universalist  order,  and 
he  thought  in  time,  they  would  declare  off  and  go  to 
gether. 

The  deacon  was  surprised  at  such  a  public  speech  and 
avowal,  and  at  such  a  time.  He  trusted  it  was  not  made 
for  effect  merely,  and  to  discourage  the  people  from  effort. 


PARISH -SIDE.  127 

"  No,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  the  people  can  do  as  they 
please,  I've  given  all  I  shall,"  and  so  saying,  followed  by 
Mr.  Harley  and  two  other  persons,  he  left  the  hou-e. 

For  a  short  time  there  was  an  uncomfortable  silence1,  :iii<i 
then  a  violent  sort  of  sensation  and  reaction,  in  the  meet 
ing.  The  deacon  rose  and  said  that  the  cause  of  religion 
was  the  cause  of  God,  and  the  duty  of  supporting  it  by  his 
children  was  as  imperative  in  foul  weather  as  in  fair.  "For 
my  own  part,"  said  he,  '/I  have  reason  to  apologize  to  the 
Society  if  I  have  betrayed  an  unchristian  spirit  in  this  af 
fair  or  have  been  unnecessarily  severe.  But  I  have  Jonij 
known  his  secret  purpose  and  have  been  acquainted  with 
his  private  management,  and  it  has  been  my  determination 
to  unmask  him  on  the  first  favorable  occasion.  I  think  that 
we  know  the  real  strength  of  the  Society,  and  that  we  are 
as  able  to  go  forward  with  the  help  only  of  real  and 
avowed  friends,  as  with  the  concurrence  of  faithless  and 
plotting  enemies." 

There  was  a  feeling  of  despondency  on  some  minds  after 
this  split  in  our  ranks  occurred,  though  all  of  us  justified 
the  deacon  and  none  wrere  present  to  sympathize  with  the 
other  party.  But  at  length,  as  the  whole  matter  was  talked 
up,  the  spirits  of  all  seemed  to  revive,  and  they  unani 
mously  voted  that  the  repairs  and  the  improvements  should 
be  made. 

When  the  meeting  adjourned,  and  the  people  left,  the 
Colonel  was  seen  in  front  of  the  Hotel  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  flourishing  his  silver  headed  cane,  and  with  con- 


128  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

siderable  swell  and  swagger  addressing  a  company  of  ten 
or  twelve  persons  who  had  gathered  around  him.  It  was 
evident  that  he  was  stirring  them  up  to  the  position  of  in 
dependency  of  the  "  old  Society,"  to  the  sticking  point  of 
"  come-outers."  The  Colonel  is  not  one  of  our  wealthiest 
men,  although  he  has  considerable  property,  but  he  is  a 
blustering  important  personage,  and  is  good  to  lead  on  a 
movement  where  daring  and  impudence  are  wanted  more 
than  reason  and  piety. 

March  11. — Poor  Mr.  Williams  !  He  is  terribly  cut 
down  by  the  events  of  yesterday.  He  will  not  allow  any 
other  cfiuse  for  the  Colonel's  dissatisfaction  and  that  of 
others,  but  his  own  failure  of  duty,  or  incapacity  to  interest 
and  profit  them.  But  I  trust  his  good  sense  and  the  calm 
and  cogent  reasonings  of  Mrs.  Williams,  Mrs.  Hillhouse, 
and  Mr*.  Street,  together  with  our  own  full  explanations 
will  have  their  effect,  and  quiet  him.  I  have  never  seen 
him  so  deeply  moved.  He  walked  the  room,  and  sighed 
bitterly  several  times.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  has  come  upon 
me  at  last.  I  have  vainly  hoped  that  all  was  well,  but 
alas  !  in  a  moment  the  cup  of  human  confidence  is  dashed 
from  my  lips  ;  I  must  drink  the  bitter  cup  of  mortification 
and  sorrow." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Street,  "  if  this  affliction  is  from  the 
Lord,  it  is  well ;  if  it  is  for  you,  it  is  also  for  us.  Have 
we  recehsed  good  at  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  and  shall  we 
reject  the  evil  T' 

"  Dear  -madam,  I  thank  you,  I  respect  you,  I  believe  you. 


PARISH -SIDE.  129 

Yes,  all  of  you  I  love— even  those  men  do  I  love,  but  con 
sider  now  their  probable  fate.  They  have  separated  them 
selves  from  us,  and  from  our  influence,  from  our  prayers 
and  sermons,  and  companionship,  and  will,  I  fear,  make 
shipwreck  of  hope  and  faith." 

We  all  endeavored  to  confine  his  mind  to  this  peculiarly 
appropriate  view  of  the  case,  and  then  to  lead  him  to  trust 
the  matter  with  God  ;  but  I  have  never  seen  him  so  vio~ 
lently  agitated.  He  wept  aloud.  We  gave  him  all  the  ad. 
vice  in  our  power,  and  when  we  parted,  he  accompanied  us 
to  the  door,  and  gave  us,  in  a  calmer  manner,  his  promise 
or  assurance  that  we  should  find  him  in  the  morning  in  a 
measure  relieved. 

March  12th. — Mr.  Williams  passed  much  of  the  last 
night  in  prayer  !  He  at  length  sought  his  pillow,  and 
arose  at  a  late  hour.  He  sat  down  with  a  face  perfectly 
peaceful  and  happy,  to  eat  with  his  family,  and  greeted 
them  as  usual  with  a  kiss.  "  All  is  well,"  said  he,  "  the  will 
of  the  LORD  be  done.  This  is  heaven's  work.  I  see  it,  I 
know  it.  It  is  appointed  for  our  own  good."  He  after 
wards  walked  abroad  as  usual,  and  then  shut  himself  up  in 
his  study,  till  weary  with  his  work  there,  he  ate  a  slight 
dinner,  and  went  over  into  the  west  part  of  the  Parish. 
Many  other  hearts  ache  over  this  matter,  as  well  as  the 
pastor's.  Many  feel  the  occasion  to  be  one  that  should 
lead  them  to  pray  more  fervently  than  ever  for  the  presence 
and  direction  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Many  now  begin  to  feel 
distressed  at  the  thought  of  severing  from  one  and  another 


130  PARISH -SIDE. 

with  whom  they  have  hitherto  gone  hand  in  hand,  and  wish 
it  were  possible  that  the  difficulties  might  be  healed.  At 
tempts  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  made  with  this  in  view. 

March  \%th. — An  interview  has  taken  place  between 
Colonel  A.  and  Mr.  Williams.  It,  however,  ended  in  noth 
ing  satisfactory  on  the  main  question,  but  the  Colonel  posi 
tively  affirmed  that  no  man  on  earth,  not  Deacon  Hartwell 
himself,  could  entertain  a  higher  personal  respect  for  the 
pastor  than  he  did.  He  even  swore,  that  if  the  Bishop  him 
self  were  to  forbid  him,  he  should  love  occasionally  to  hear 
him  preach.  The  Colonel  is,  after  all,  a  man  of  kind  feel 
ings.  He  is  often  provoking,  but  as  frequently  does  that 
which  is  conciliating.  He  is  thoughtless  and  swaggering, 
but  he  is  also  open  and  generous.  Personally,  he  knows 
but  little  of  religion,  but  trusts  the  more  to  his  Priest.  He 
sees  the  supposed  necessity  of  some  religious  system,  and 
when  he  chooses  for  himself,  elects  the  one  in  which  he  was 
born.  He  pays  for  preaching  as  for  a  good  dinner,  and  rev 
erences  the  sanctuary  as  he  would  a  king's  palace.  He 
would  draw  his  sword  as  valiantly  in  the  church  to  defend 
his  priest,  as  on  the  field  of  battle  to  save  his  cannon,  or  his 
general.  He  is  nothing  to  lose,  and  yet  we  are  wrry  that  he 
has  gone. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE     CHURCH     TO     BE     ENLARGED. 

THE  society  immediately  and  warmly  entered  into  the 
projected  improvement  of  the  church.  They  had  provided 
for  raising  the  salary,  and  had  met  all  the  other  regular  and 
incidental  expenses  of  the  Parish, — now  it  became  necessary 
to  secure  the  money  requisite  for  this  new  expense.  After 
a  great  variety  of  methods  were  proposed,  it  was  at  length 
determined  to  assess  every  member,  .of  the  Society  his  or 
her  due  proportion  of  the  cost,  according  to  the  valuation 
of  each  one  in  the  grand  list  of  the  town.  Personal  appli 
cation  was  made  to  every  individual,  to  secure  his  consent 
to  this  course.  But  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  carry  it. 
Some  were  unwilling  to  pay  their  full  proportion,  because 
they  did  not  need  the  repairs  themselves.  Others  because 
it  was  better,  if  so  much  was  to  be  expended,  to  add  a  little 
more,  and  build  a  new  house.  And  a  good  many  said  that 
the  members  of  the  society,  ought  not  to  pay  as  much  for  an 
object  of  this  sort,  as  the  church  members,  they  being  more 
immediately  interested  in  the  worship  of  God,  and  in  re 
ligious  matters  generally.  There  were  others  who  present- 


132  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

ed  various  excuses,  such  as  "  expensive  families,"  •'  hard 
times,"  "  unequal  taxation  of  the  rich  and  the  poor."  But 
these  were  all  induced  to  waive  their  objections,  and  con 
sent  to  the  assessment.  There  was  another  party,  rather 
increased  by  this  proposal  and  vote,  of  which  Colonel  Arrs 
stood  at  the  head,  who  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
it,  and  who  even  threatened  to  bring  a  suit  against  the  so 
ciety  for  a  thousand  dollars,  more  or  less,  their  own  interest 
in  the  society's  funds.  But  it  wras  argued  against  this,  that 
they  had  not,  in  time  to  avoid  the  assessment,  thrown  up 
their  certificates  of  membership,  and  whatever  claim  they 
might  have  on  the  society  for  their  property  in  the  common 
fund,  they  were  holden  by  a  major  vote  of  the  society  to  all 
its  previous  expenses.  This  irritated  some.  They  declared 
that  they  would  not  be  compelled  to  pay  a  dollar. 

The  society  felt  alarmed  at  this  state  of  things.  So 
did  Mr.  Williams.  His  judgment,  for  a  young  man,  was 
very  ripe,  and  it  was  frequently  sought.  He  advised  to 
ascertain,  precisely,  the  state  of  every  man's  difficulty,  and 
make  every  possible  exertion  to  satisfy  him,  without  offend 
ing  any  with  saying,  "  You  are  obliged  to  submit  to  the  ma 
jority."  "  This,"  said  he,  "  always  irritates  an  American." 
We  all  knew  what  he  referred  to,  and  clearly  saw  an  appre 
hension  in  his  mind  that  our  case  was  becoming  about  as 
complicated  as  that  of  the  British  Parliament  and  the 
American  Colonies ! 

By  a  great  amount  of  forbearance  and  conciliatory  ac 
tion,  as  well  as  by  much  personal  solicitation,  everything 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  133 

was  finally  arranged  as  follows.  Colonel  Arrs,  Mr.  Harley 
and  Mr.  Ruggles  refused  the  assessment,  for  they  said  they 
had  left  the  Society  in  time.  They  also  claimed  an  undi 
vided  interest  in  the  Society  funds,  but  they  did  not  care 
now  to  press  it.  There  were  two  other  persons  who  con 
sented  to  the  assessment,  but  threw  in  their  certificates  of 
membership  ;  the  remainder  were  all  friendly. 

This  work  caused  the  Society  an  untold  amount  of  effort 
and  anxiety.  Some  of  the  old  men  said  we  were  all  going 
to  pieces,  and  it  was  a  rebuke  of  pride.  They  said  we 
were  so  proud  of  our  minister  that  we  "  could'nt  hear  any 
body  else  preach,  and  for  fear  he  would  not  live  easy 
enough,  had  given  him  another  hundred  dollars,  when  he  al 
ready  laid  up  money."  Still  the  old  men  wanted  the  Society 
to  grow,  and  everybody  to  have  a  slip.  Because  of  these 
threatening  appearances,  several  ladies  of  the  church  held 
meetings  by  themselves,  and  I  doubt  not  earnestly  prayed 
that  we  might  be  saved  from  ruin. 

The  younger  portion  of  the  Society,  both  men  and  wo 
men,  who  were  inspired  with  the  prevalent  notion  of  "  pro 
gress"  and  "  destiny,"  then  so  much  spoken  of  in  public, 
seemed  not  to  care  a  fig  for  these  storms,  or  "  scare  crows" 
as  they  termed  them,  and  they  pushed  matters  along,  how 
much  so  ever  many  held  back.  Neither  was  deacon  Ilart- 
wcll  concerned,  nor  Doctor  Alexander,  nor  Marcus  Street, 
nor  Esquire  Peters,  neither  was  /.  It  was  a  foregone  con 
clusion  that  we  should  succeed.  It  was  hardly,  and  yet  it 
was,  a  question  of  time. 


CHAPTEE   XXI. 

JOURNAL    AGAIN — THE   "  DISPUTING    TERRITORY"    IN   THE  PARISH. 

MARCH  20. — Of  all  the  trials  that  society  suffers,  I  know 
of  none  so  agitating  to  the  nerves,  and  so  desperate  to 
manage,  as  those  petty  disturbances  between  individuals  of 
the  Parish,  which  arise  from  feelings  of  wounded  vanity 
and  fancied  neglect.  There  is  one  part  of  our  parish  which 
is  called  the  "  Disputing  Territory,"  because  the  families 
there,  are,  several  of  them,  continually  at  loggerheads. 
Their  difficulties  have,  several  times,  been  partially  healed 
and  smoothed  over  like  "  the  hurt  of  the  daughter  of  my 
people,"  but  they  have  as  oft  broken  out  again,  as  fire 
smothered,  and  raged  with  no  less  violence  than  at  first. 
The  families  in  that  quarter  have,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
intermarried  a  good  deal,  and  when  even  the  church  at 
tempts  to  discipline  one  of  the  disputants,  all  the  rest  rise 
in  his  defence.  They  hate  one  another,  but  they  wish  no 
body  else  to  fight  for  them,  or  to  interfere  in  their  quarrels. 
When  the  Society  sends  a  pacificator  among  them,  if  he 
enters  one  house  before  another,  he  is  received  by  the  rest 
with  the  suspicion  that  he  has  been  already  prejudiced  by 


PARISH- SIDE.  135 

stopping  where  he  did.  (So  do  men  who  are  themselves  in 
error>  and  accustomed  to  a  certain  course  of  conduct  that 
agrees  with  it,  readily  conceive  that  all  other  men  are  like 
them,  to  whom  they  are  opposed  !) 

These  disputes  belong  to  no  one  period  of  the  Society's 
history.  Perhaps  it  is  in  the  very  air  of  the  neighborhood 
that  they  exist,  for  it  must  be  owned,  that  a  doleful  sort  of 
aspect  reigns  in  the  vicinity.  The  houses  look  desolate ;  the 
children  in  the  yards  seem  suspicious ;  the  creatures  and 
fowls  look  uneasy  ;  the  barns  and  all  the  out-buildings 
seem  neglected ;  there  are  few  new  things  among  them ; 
the  old  bridges  over  the  roads  are  propped  up  and  retained; 
the  old  trees  are  left  to  grow  ragged  ;  old  wagons  and  carts 
with  broken  axles,  felloes,  and  tires,  are  scattered  here  and 
there  ;  the  gate  at  the  front  door  is  unhinged  and  the  walk 
untrodden ;  the  dog  is  a  sneaking  cur.  Selfishness  seems 
to  have  made  a  home  among  them,  for  what  is  fat  and 
comely  among  the  beasts,  is  only  reckoned  by  its  value  in 
the  market.  Some  of  these  persons  are  not  wanting  in  in 
telligence  and  wealth,  but  their  wealth  seems  less  the  older 
they  grow,  and  their  intelligence  is  sadly  counterbalanced 
by  their  perversion  of  truth  in  social  practices.  They  live 
to  eat  up  one  another,  and  the  aliment  is  too  innutritions 
of  itself,  even  if  taken  in  large  quantities,  to  grow  upon, 
and  they  are  all  so  lean,  that  the  metaphysical  certainty 
remains,  that  they  can  never  of  one  another,  eat  a  satiety. 

These  quarrels  have  come  down  from  a  long  distance. 
Our  young  people  know  nothing  of  their  origin.  It  is, 


136  PARISH -SIDE. 

however,  credibly  reported  that  they  began  soon  after  the 
Parish  was  formed,  and  commenced  in  the  refusal  of  one 
man  to  allow  his  neighbor's  geese  to  swim  in  the  same  pond 
with  his  own,  although  it  was  quite  questionable  whether 
the  pond  was  his  or  the  others.  The  original  disputants  be 
queathed  their  grievances  to  their  own  families  and  they  en 
tailed  them  in  their  turn  on  theirs'.  They  were  easily  kept 
alive.  The  children  pricked  each  other  at  school,  and  told 
fibs  about  one  another  if  delinquent,  and  put  snow  balls 
into  each  others'  dinner  baskets  at  recess.  And  the  older 
boys  sprung  each  others'  traps  and  snares  set  for  rabbits 
and  squirrels,  and  even,  now  and  then,  barked  a  young  fa 
vorite  tree  in  an  orchard.  Still,  occasionally,  some  pretty 
girl  in  one  family  would  win  the  heart  of  a  lad  in  another, 
and  thus,  as  the  years  went  by,  and  the  settlement  in 
creased,  the  difficulties  grew  more  entangled  as  the  cords 
of  relationship  tightened.  The  old  men  answered  one 
another  surlily,  though  they  seldom  came  to  blows,  and 
would  occasionally  do  something  for  each  other  that  looked 
like  a  leaning  to  kindness,  or  not  a  total  depravity  over  and 
above  their  natural  depravity.  The  women,  in  their  respec 
tive  circles,  kept  up  a  very  great  fire  of  scandalous  talk, 
and  while  "  nothing  was  too  mean  for  one  to  do,"  "  nothing 
was  too  great  for  another  to  suffer."  The  party  talking, 
was  ever  the  sufferer,  the  party  talked  about,  the  offender. 
At  times  there  have  been  known  to  be  present  of  an  after 
noon  or  evening,  at  some  common  friend's,  individuals  from 
this  Territory,  who  though  lively  talkers  in  general,  never 


PARISH-SIDE.  137 

addressed  each  other.  They  never  knew  one  another  on 
the  highway.  If  one  enquired  anything  of  either  family 
about  the  other,  there  was  a  total  ignorance  of  them,  wheth 
er  sick  or  well,  in  poverty  or  riches.  But  they  mutually 
hated  and  hectored  one  another,  and  when  nobody  was  to 
be  served  at  all  by  their  answers  but  themselves,  (or  in 
jured  but  the  absent  ones,)  they  knew  enough  about  them 
to  fill  a  Justice's  record. 

So  much  for  them.  They  still  go  on  as  they  did  twenty, 
thirty,  forty,  fifty  years  ago.  Even  though  the  original 
cause  of  the  war  be  not  remembered,  yet  invention  is  never 
at  fault  "  You  did"  or  "  you  did'nt,"  keep  the  families  in 
the  Disputing  Territory  just  as  belligerent  as  at  the  first. 
The  Society  has  ever  mourned  over  these  things  ;  but  it  has 
been  in  vain  that  every  imaginable  and  reasonable  proceed 
ing  has  been  instituted  to  put  an  end  to  such  a  deplorable 
state  of  things,  both  in  the  church  and  society.  At  length 
we  have  all  come  to  regard  it  appointed  as  one  of  our 
"thorns  in  the  flesh." 

But  would  you  know  how  we  lost  the  family  of  the 
Hinghams  from  the  society?  It  was  in  this  manner. 
They?  by  the  way,  were  quite  decent,  though  they  were  not 
remarkably  influential  persons.  Mr.  H.  was  a  clever  sort 
of  a  man,  inoffensive,  industrious,  and  reflective.  Mrs.  H. 
was  a  lively,  frank,  homelike  woman.  The  children  were 
fond  of  their  parents.  But,  alas !  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  were 
not  rich,  and  they  could  not  buy  a  twenty  dollar  slip.  They 
had  pride  enough  to  sit  next  to  the  deacon,  or  the  doctor,  or 


138  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

the  Colonel,  but  not  money  enough.  So  they  took  it  hard 
of  every  body  that  they  were  not  treated  better,  and  by- 
and-bye,  with  many  complaints,  fell  off  from  attendance  at 
church.  Our  good  people  tried  to  smooth  the  hill  of  diffi 
culty  for  them,  but  they  seemed  disposed  to  complain,  and 
continue  still  dissatisfied.  One  and  another  said  at  length, 
"  We  shall  lose  the  Hinghams."  "  Lose  the  Hinghams  !" 
exclaimed  others.  "  The  Hinghams  going  to  quit  f  in 
quired  A,  B,  and  C.  "  What  can  be  done  to  save  the 
Hinghams  ?"  inquired  the  pastor.  But  nothing  could  save 
them.  Their  fat,  beautiful  boy  Eddie  was  taken  sick  and 
died.  All  our  people  in  the  vicinity  went  and  offered  their 
attentions  to  the  family,  but  as  they  were  a  little  behind  the 
people  of  the  other  society,  and  our  pastor  and  his  lady  did 
not  visit  them  till  the  afternoon,  when  the  pastor  and  lady 
of  the  other  society  called  in  the  morning  before  breakfast, 
and  tarried  till  twelve  at  noon,  the  Hinghams  "  were  lost  to 
us."  Especially  as  the  ladies  of  the  other  sewing  society 
sent  the  pastor's  lady,  and  the  two  eminent  Directressess  of 
the  society,  in  a  covered  carriage,  with  a  card  of  invitation 
to  Mrs.  Hingham,  to  come  and  meet  with  them — and  di 
rectly  after,  Mr.  Hingham  was  informed,  officially,  that  if 
he  and  his  family  found  it  convenient  and  pleasant  to  attend 
their  church,  he  should  enjoy  its  privileges  gratuitously. 
"  Are  the  Hinghams  lost  V  The  Hinghams  are  lost.  . 

It  has  often  cost  us  the  favor  of  some  one  or  two  persons 
of  this  sort,  whenever  we  have  tried  hard  to  please  them, 
unless  we  totally  abandoned  all  the  usually  recognized  lines 


PARISH-SIDE.  139 

of  society,  and  marched  them,  (cost  what  it  might,)  right 
up  towards  the  pulpit,  among  the  rich  and  talented  and  in 
fluential,  who  have  themselves,  in  fact,  not  unfrequently, 
been  obliged  to  go  down  into  the  back  slips,  to  accommo 
date  them.  But  pure, oil  burns  as  brightly  in  the  dark  as 
in  the  light.  These  uneasy  spirits  should  remember,  that  a 
forced  elevation  always  meets  with  its  real  and  necessary 
depression.  Once  out  of  the  church,  the  truly  influential 
citizen  or  Christian  assumes  again  his  own  position,  and  the 
intruder  his. 

I  know  not  how  many  cases  of  complaint  to  the  church 
for  petty  misdcameanors,  have  in  times  past  occurred,  and 
how  often  it  has  been  shown  that  personal  prejudice,  envy, 
or  jealousy,  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole.  There  were 
formerly  more  of  these  cases  than  there  are  at  present. 
And  yet  the  sentinels  on  duty  in  the  "  disputing  territory," 
report  no  cause  for  relaxing  in  their  vigilance !  Aside  from 
these,  our  church  and  Parish  have  been  remarkable  for 
their  order,  peace,  and  kindness  to  one  another.  Must 
there  not  be  "  tares  with  the  wheat"  till  the  harvest  come  ? 
Then  may  we  bear  with  patience  the  presence  and  baleful 
influence  of  these  noxious  weeds  in  our  own  goodly  wheat 
fields.  In  due  time  they  will  be  taken  from  us,  and  gathered 
only  to  the  flames. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

JOURNAL     OF     MARCH     30TH — FIRE! 

ALAS  !  who  will  not  pity  us  now  ?  A  blow  has  indeed 
smitten  us  that  we  have  never  before  felt.  Is  it  the  rod  of 
His  anger,  or  voice  of  correction  ?  We  bow  in  the  dust, 
we  pray  for  submission.  The  ways  of  the  Lord  are  past 
finding  out,  and  yet  he  doth  not  willingly  afflict  or  grieve 
the  children  of  men.  Oh !  let  us  gather  assurance  from  this 
promise  of  the  Scripture,  and  may  we,  though  he  slay  us, 
still  trust  in  Him. 

How  short-sighted  is  man,  and  how  suddenly  may  all  his 
best  plans  come  to  naught !  This  has  been  especially 
proved  to-day.  The  morning  sun  arose  unclouded ;  the  air 
was  still,  though  frosty,  the  ground,  in  part,  free  from  snow 
and  ice,  and  we  began  to  hail  the  arrival  of  spring  with  the 
out-burstings  of  heartfelt  joy.  Little  did  we  think  that  the 
morning  bell  from  the  old  time-honored  sanctuary,  which 
sent  forth  its  cheering  sounds  over  the  Parish  at  nine 
o'clock,  was  then  ringing  out  the  last  of  its  regular  and 
measured  tones,  from  the  tower  where  its  home  has  so  long 
been.  But  such  is  the  most  sad — nay,  awful  fact.  "  Our 


PARISH-SIDE.  141 

holy  and  our  beautiful  HOUSE,  where  our  fathers  praised 
Thee,  is  burnt  up  with  fire  ;  and  all  our  pleasant  things  are 
laid  waste." 

We  are  a  people  whom  the  Lord  has  seen  it  best  to  af 
flict.  Oh !  that  this  chastening  may  do  us  good,  to  the  pre 
venting,  if  possible,  of  one  still  more  direful. 

It  was  near  the  hour  of  morning  service,  when  my  wife 
rushed  into  the  parlor,  where,  by  the  fire,  I  was  quietly 
reading  my  Bible,  and  cried  out,  "  My  dear !  what  is  the 
meaning  of  this  sudden  and  violent  ringing  of  the  bell  1 
And — dear  me !  I  do  believe  there  is  smoke  rising  from  the 
very  roof  of  the  church."  I  threw  off  my  spectacles,  and 
cried  "  FIRE  !  FIRE  !  FIRE  !"  as  I  got  up  from  the  rocker  and 
made  towards  the  door.  My  three  boys,  who  were  up 
stairs,  sprang  to  their  feet  at  these  vociferations,  and  came 
thrashing  down  the  stairs.  They  supposed  we  were  on  fire. 
Their  mother,  breathless  with  alarm,  threw  open  the  door, 
and  pointed  to  the  church,  towards  which  crowds  were  now 
hastening.  They  immediately  seized  our  buckets,  and  ran 
there  along  with  the  crowd.  I  arrived  soon  after  them. 
Indeed  it  was  too  true  that  the  church  was  on  fire,  and  the 
people  as  they  gathered  around  it,  a  few  rushing  in,  hardly 
seemed  to  know  what  course  to  follow.  Besides  it  was 
SUNDAY  !  and  it  was  the  hour  for  morning  service,  a  still, 
solemn,  and  holy  hour :  it  seemed  almost  a  profanation  to 
cry  "  Fire  !  fire  /"  to  make  a  noise  and  disturbance,  to  work 
and  sweat  as  one  would  do  on  a  week  day.  The  firo  had 
caught  in  a  bad  place,  away  up  in  the  roof,  from  the  stove 


142  PARISH -SIDE. 

pipe,  which,  after  passing  from  the  porch  along  the  aisles, 
went  out  above.  And  there,  up  so  high  that  from  below  nc 
water  could  be  thrown  to  it,  and  raging,  with  densest  vol 
umes  of  smoke  along  the  dark  passage  between  the  roof  and 
ceiling,  which  rushed  out  towards  the  belfry,  and  'by  every 
crevice  in  the  roof  and  walls,  was  the  cracking,  flaming, 
hideous  fire  !  And  now  a  great  throng  of  men,  women,  and 
children,  gathered  around  the  building,  all  thunderstruck,  as 
it  were,  and  overpowered  with  the  direful  scene. 

At  this  juncture,  when  everything  was  so  eminently 
perilous,  and  no  one  knew  what  to  do,  a  large  and  strong 
man  with  great  strides,  flourishing  a  silver-headed  cane  over 
his  head  and  pointing  one  this  way  and  another  that,  rushed 
boldly  through  the  crowd,  and  dashing  his  drab  overcoat  on 
the  earth,  cried  out  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "  Bring  the  tall 
ladder  to  the  back  side  of  the  church  from  the  Academy, 
immediately !"  More  than  twenty  men  rushed  away  to 
execute  this  order.  "  Now  men  and  women  too,"  said  he, 
"  form  a  line  here  to  the  great  swamp  spring  in  the  rear," 
and  he  pushed  this  one  and  that  one  with  his  cane,  who  were 
too  much  amazed  to  move  quickly,  and  planting  his  broad 
shoulder  with  a  spring  against  the  tall  broad  fence  of  the 
church,  he  laid  it  in  a  second  of  time  flat  on  the  ground. 
The  people  rushed  through  the  opening,  and  by  the  time 
the  ladder  came,  water  was  passing  rapidly  in  buckets  and 
pails  along  the  lines  to  where  the  ladder  was  raised  to  the 
roof.  Several  men  rushed  up  the  ladder  and  went  as  near 
the  fire  as  prudent  and  dashed  on  the  water  as  it  came  up. 


PAR  IS  II -SIDE.  143 

Who  was  this  man  that  had  the  whole  company  so  com 
pletely  under  his  command  and  was  acting  with  so  much 
judgment  and  coolness  ?  It  was  none  other  than  Colonel 
AITS  !  And  while  the  previous  things  were  going  on,  he 
was  directing  others.  "  Ho  !  here,"  he  cried  to  a  group, 
"rush  into  the  church,  above  and  below,  secure  all  the 
books ;  put  down  those  windows  !"  cried  he  with  the  voice 
of  a  lion,  "  take  off  the  blinds  on  the  outside,  and  the  last 
thing  done  let  it  be  to  save  the  windows.  Would  you  open 
a  draft  for  the  flumes  ?"  Then  everybody  was  set  to  work 
who  could  be  spared,  to  withdraw  the  carpets,  cushions  and 
stools.  ^lr.  Williams  rushed  into  the  room  now  filled  with 
smoke,  the  fire  beginning  to  appear  through  the  ceiling  in 
several  places,  and  carrying  all  before  it.  He  had  the  fore 
thought  to  direct  the  deacon  to  take  away  the  rich  commun 
ion  service  from  the  closet,  and  the  mahogany  table  and 
chairs.  He  himself  carried  away  the  large  bible  contain 
ing  sundry  records  of  value  on  its  ancient  pages. 

V\'hile  these  things  were  going  forward,  Colonel  Arrs, 
who  was  in  every  place  at  once,  directing  this,  and  saving 
that,  had  not  forgotten  the  bell.  But  it  was  dangerous  to 
attempt  saving  it.  The  smoke  rolled  up  into  the  steeple 
from  the  opened  mouth  of  the  garret  vault,  and  the  fire  was 
every  moment  approaching  the  stairs.  But  already  had  the 
design  to  save  the  bell  been  formed  in  his  mind,  and  as 
soon  as  formed  commenced.  "  Follow  me  here,  a  dozen  of 
the  stoutest  of  ye  ;  on  !  on !"  cried  he,  leaping  up  the  stairs 
two  or  three  at  once,  and  carrying  with  him  an  axe  which 


144  P  A  R  I  S  H  -  S  I  D  E . 

ho  had  wrenched  from  the  hand  of  a  man  more  thoughtful 
than  many  others.  They  obeyed  him,  no  one  flinched. 
They  were  all  stout  and  true-hearted  men.  Among  them 
was  my  oldest  son,  Archibald,  who  is  six  feet  in  height,  and 
strong  and  courageous  in  proportion.  They  rushed  up  into 
the  smoke  and  fire.  But  the  flames  drove  them  back. 
"  What  would  you  do,  Colonel  Arrs  ?"  cried  the  stentorian 
voice  of  Deacon  Hartwell  from  below  ;  "  you  will  all  perish, 
come  down !"  "  No  !"  cried  he,  "  who  wants  a  bell  like 
this  to  be  destroyed  by  these  ugly  flames.  No  !  we'll  pitch 
the  bell  from  the  window,  and  then  if  it  breaks  it  will  do 
to  make  another.  We  will  at  least  save  the  temper."  But 
the  smoke  was  terrible  to  endure.  Sbon  a  sort  of  crash, 
and  a  report  like  the  escaping  of  pent-up  steam,  reached 
them,  and  the  smoke  sensibly  decreased.  A  shout  from  the 
workmen  outside  followed.  "  Ha !"  said  some  one,  "  they 
are  getting  it  under." 

"  Getting  it  under,  no  they  aint !  now  or  never  ;  up  with 
you  boys  /"  shouted  the  colonel,  "  the  fire  has  made  a  large 
hole  through  the  roof,  and  smoke  and  flame  go  the  same 
way !"  But  what  a  scene  of  tumult  was  now  seen  below  ! 
Wives  were  screaming  to  their  husbands  to  descend.  Par 
ents  were  weeping  for  a  child  exposed,  friends  and  neigh 
bors  rushed  up  part  way  to  the  galleries,  and  cried  to  the 
party  above  to  give  up  their  mad  and  useless  project.  "  Go 
back !  clear  the  way  from  the  door,  be  quiet,  and  trust  in 
God !"  cried  the  colonel,  leading  his  men  by  a  few  direct 
bounds  into  the  bell  loft.  Nothing  daunted  by  the  hissing 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  145 

flames  that  now  swept  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  roof, 
and  would,  in  five  minutes,  wrap  their  forked  tongues 
around  the  steeple,  he  dashed  out  the  green  window  blind 
with  a  blow  of  the  axe,  shouting,  "  Away  there  below, 
away,  for  your  lives.  Now  grasp  the  bell,  all  hands !  at 
the  same  time,  you  Mr.  Holmes,"  (who  helped  to  hang  the 
bell,)  "  cut  down  the  whole  tackling."  Holmes  seized  the 
axe,  one  blow  with  his  great  strength,  in  the  right  place, 
opened  the  wrheel  and  the  severed  rope  fell  through  into 
the  porch.  A  few  heavy  and  well-directed  blows  follow 
ing,  the  bell  hung  in  the  hands  of  nearly  a  dozen  broad- 
shouldered  men,  each  of  whom  could  toss  a  two -hundred 
pound  weight  over  a  wall.  "  Away  from  below,  away  !" 
thundered  the  voice  of  Colonel  Arrs.  "  All  clear !  all 
clear  !"  shouted  a  hundred  voices.  The  next  instant  a  huge 
black  mass  fell  through  the  dense  columns  of  smoke  that 
were  now  rolling  around  the  steeple,  and  with  a  single  vi 
bration  that  caused  every  ear  that  heard  it  to  tremble,  the 
new  and  beautiful  bell  that  had  been  so  lately  raised  into 
its  lofty  home,  and  more  recently  covered  with  laurel,  fell, 
a  weight  of  twelve  hundred  pounds,  on  the  hard  granite 
steps  of  the  church,  and  was  dashed  to  pieces.  A  shout  of 
triumph  (even  though  it  was  the  Sabbath)  filled  the  air  ; 
yet  even  before  it  rose,  the  colonel  cried,  "  now  men,  save 
yourselves  !"  From  the  window  he  criecl,  "  Bear  away  the 
pieces  /"  and  then,  through  fire  and  smoke,  they  fought  their 
way  to  the  porch.  The  colonel  came  down  bearing  in  his 

7 


146  PARISH-SIDE. 

arms  the  door  of  the  belfry,  which  he  had  wrenched  off  in 
his  descent. 

Men  were  now  scattered  over  the  building  in  all  direc 
tions,  where  safety  would  allow  of  it,  and  the  windows  and 
blinds  were,  for  the  greater  part,  secured.  The  flames 
burnt  on.-  Soon  the  whole  house  was  enveloped  in  them. 
It  was  an  exciting  moment  when  they  ran  up  to  the  top  of 
the  steeple  and  stretched  their  hungry  necks  and  forked 
tongues  into  the  air  above.  It  was  a  mournful  scene  in 
deed.  How  many  looked  on  and  wept.  How  many 
wrung  their  hands  in  bitterness.  How  many  mothers  held 
their  children  in  their  arms  and  tried  to  make  them  as  con 
scious  of  the  awful  catastrophe  as  themselves,  while  they 
sought,  moreover,  to  comfort  them  by  saying,  "  God  will 
build  us  another  house  my  dears  !" 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  whole  church  fell  in,  a  mass  of 
burning  and  smouldering  rubbish.  Around  it  a  gaping 
crowd  collected  all  day.  When  the  frame  fell  in  the  colonel 
put  on  his  dr#b  overcoat,  wiped  away  the  smoke  and  perspi 
ration  from  his  face,  and  finding  his  cigar  case  in  one  of  his 
pockets,  he  walked  straight  to  a  burning  brand  near  by,  and 
lighting  his  cigar  soon  enveloped  his  great  face  with  the 
curling  smoke. 

"  Now,  Deacon  Hartwell !"  said  lie,  walking  up  to  the 
circle  where  the  deacon  and  several  other  gentlemen,  includ 
ing  Mr.  Williams,  were  conversing  together,  "  now,  sir,  itTs 
of  no  use  to  mourn  over  this  thing.  It  can't  be  helped. 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  147 

We've  got  out  of  the  building  all  we  could,  and  she's  gone. 

I'M  GLAD    OF  IT." 

"  Why  !  Colonel  Arrs  !"  exclaimed  several  ladies,  near  by. 

"  Yes,  sir,  *  glad  of  it.'  You  were  going  to  spend  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  on  it  to  make  it  answer  your  purposes,  and 
then  it  wouldn't  suit  ye — and  you  all  know  it.  I  say  I  am 
glad  of  it.  Now  we'll  have  a  whole  church,  a  new,  good, 
handsome,  modern  affair,  that  will  be  worth  looking  at. 
Look  here,  deacon,  you  and  I  havn't  behaved  very  well  of 
late,  and  the  Lord  has,  I  suppose,  been  rebuking  us.  At 
any  rate,  build  a  new  house,  and  here's  Colonel  Arrs  for 
three  hundred  dollars.  And  besides,"  said  he,  turning 
again,  "  I'll  agree  to  worship  with  ye,  and  stand  by  ye  for 
five  years  longer." 

With  this  the  colonel,  with  long  strides,  the  smoke  roll 
ing  from  his  cigar,  pushed  out  of  the  crowd,  and  went  away, 
not  even  looking  back  at  the  burning  pile. 

We  had  a  sorrowful  meeting  then  in  the  hall  of  the 
Academy.  Everybody  went  and  took  one  more  look  at 
the  ruins  before  he  retired  to  his  home,  and  all  said,  "  Oh  ! 
how  in  a  moment  is  our  pride  brought  into  the  dust." 

I  very  much  doubt  whether  a  night  has  ever  shut  in  over 

* 

this  valley,  bringing  with  it  a  deeper  sense  of  bereavement, 
and  keener  sorrow,  than  this.  A  moaning  sound  is  in  the 
air.  The  dark  clouds  have  covered  the  heavens,  the  winds  as 
they  rise  rekindle  the  dying  brands  of  the  ruins,  and  sparks 
of  fire  occasionally  rise  into  the  air.  A  great  many  persons 
have  been  into  the  minister's  house  this  evening,  and  have 


148  PARISH -SIDE. 

prayed  together,  and  conversed  freely  about  this  unforeseen 
affliction.  But  I  think  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  were 
never  more  calm  than  now,  though  they  show  by  their  pale 
and  saddened  countenances,  that  they  feel  most  deeply  this 
common  visitation  of  the  Lord  upon  us.  Deacon  Hartwell 
bears  the  blow  with  his  customary  dignity.  Mrs.  Hartwell 
and  Mrs.  Street  show  that  they  have  wept  much  over  the 
loss,  and  Mrs.  Hillhouse  seems  hardly  to  know  whether  to 
cry  or  to  rejoice.  She  says  that  she  never  approved  of  ex 
pending  fifteen  hundred  or  two  thousand  dollars  on  the  old 
edifice,  and  yet  she  had  a  great  attachment  to  its  old  walls, 
and  a  deep  veneration  for  it  because  of  its  antique  charac 
ter.  Mr.  Street  says,  "There  is  but  one  way  for  us,  and 
that  is,  to  form  our  plans  immediately,  and  build  again." 
So  the  deacon  says, — indeed  all  say  this. 

Everybody  admired  the  cool,  and  well-directed  efforts, 
though  personally  so  perilous,  of  the  strange  creature  Col 
onel  Arrs. 

"  He  showed  himself,"  said  Deacon  Hartwell,  "  twice  the 
man  he  ever  did  before,  and  his  generosity  afterwards,  as 
well  as  his  abandoning  his  previous  intention  to  separate 
from  us,  are  above  all  praise." 

So  thought  they  all. 

"  I  could  but  admire  God's  providence  in  this,"  said  Mr. 
Williams ;  "  all  our  arguments  with  him  failed  to  alter  his 
purpose,  but  God  in  a  moment  softens  his  heart  towards  us, 
and  preserves  us  from  a  dreaded  breach." 

"  We  can  build  another  house,"  said    Esquire   Peters 


PARISH-SIDE.  149 

(and  Dr.  Alexander  assented  to  it)  "  as  easily,  in  my  judg 
ment,  as  to  have  made  the  contemplated  repairs  on  the  old 
one.  The  money  can  be  raised — the  house  can  be  complet 
ed  easily  in  the  fall." 

A  common,  hopeful,  determined  feeling  seemed  to  get 
possession  of  every  one,  as  all  conversed  together,  and  when 
they  separated,  it  was  with  less  of  heart-broken  discourage 
ment  written  on  their  faces,  and  more  of  confidence  and 
resignation. 

*****  * 

We  could  easily  murmur  over  this  visitation  of  heaven, 
for  it  deprives  us  of  our  house  of  worship  for  the  summer, 
and  forces  us  into  a  small,  inconvenient  hall;  it  sweeps 
away  our  conveniences  not  only,  but  a  large  amount  of  prop 
erty  ;  it  breaks  up  our  regular  order  of  society,  and  hum 
bles  and  distresses  us.  After  years  of  exertion  and  self- 
denial  to  build  up  and  sustain  the  Lord's  house,  lo  !  now  it 
is  in  ruins.  Our  beautiful  bell  lies  broken  in  pieces.  The 
little  we  have  saved  reminds  us  of  what  we  have  lost,  and 
our  poor  pastor  and  his  wife  mourn  with  us,  as  one  mourns 
for  his  friend. 

****** 

I  know  not  what  the  Parish  of  Edgefield  has  yet  to  en 
counter.  Many  a  dark  day  has  passed  over  it.  Many  a 
trial  has  God  in  his  providence  brought  it  to  experience,  but 
few  sorer  calamities  than  this.  Yet, "  Whom  the  Lord  LOVETH 
he  chasteneth,  and  scourges  every  son  whom  he  receiveth." 
"  I  will  not  fear  what  God  the  Lord  shall  do  unto  me." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  NEW  CHURCH  GOES  UP  SLOWLY. 

ONE  very  affecting  circumstance  occurred  in  the  course  of 
a  few  days  after  our  church  was  consumed  by  fire.  It  was 
a  donation  of  twenty-five  dollars  from  the  poor  church  at 
West  Edgefield  !  It  seems  that  they  regarded  the  affliction 
as  sent  from  God  for  our  good,  and  knowing  the  power 
of  sympathy,  of  Christian  condolence,  and  alms  to  encour 
age  the  mind,  and  to  heal  the  brokenness  of  the  heart,  they 
contributed  this  amount  out  of  their  deep  poverty,  and  sent 
it  to  us,  saying,  "  Arise  ye,  build  again  the  house  of  the 
Lord." 

We  could  but  see  the  finger  of  God  in  this ;  and  though 
we  were  not  in  circumstances  really  to  need  the  gift,  yet  no 
one  thought  for  a  moment  of  declining  it.  We  now  saw 
that  they  were  truly  a  grateful  people,  and  forgot  not  their 
debt  of  gratitude. 

The  society,  after  several  public  meetings,  discussions, 
motions,  resolves,  and  re-resolves,  after  looking  at  every  side 
of  the  question,  and  scanning  attentively  all  the  plans  for 
building  proposed,  were  at  length  enabled  to  move  on  to- 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  151 

gether,  and  to  agree  on  the  model  for  the  church.  All  the 
specifications  for  the  work  were  embraced  in  one  contract 
with  a  certain  company,  the  money  was  secured,  I  cannot 
here  stop  to  tell  with  how  much  effort,  and  the  work  com 
menced  in  good  earnest  by  the  first  of  May. 

May  10. — Mrs.  Williams  has  now  been  with  us  rather 
more  than  a  year.  To  say  that  we  have  been  pleased  with 
her  would  be  tame,  and  almost  unmeaning.  We  admire 
and  love  her.  She  has  won  the  hearts  of  a  great  number. 
I  would  not  say  of  all,  for  we  know  not  the  workings  of 
every  human  heart.  Her  gentleness  wins  our  affection ; 
her  piety  awakens  our  confidence  ;  her  attention  to  the  aged 
and  the  sick  enlists  our  prayers ;  her  love  to  the  young 
moves  our  hearts ;  her  intimate  connection  with  us  in  all 
our  labors  removes  our  fears  and  disarms  our  prejudice  ; 
her  close  attention  to  her  husband  and  regard  of  his  com 
fort  and  her  care  of  his  home,  awaken  our  common  grati 
tude.  And  we  rejoice  to  see  that,  apparently,  she  is  en 
tirely  contented  among  us,  and  that  it  is  her  choice  to  live 
and  labor  here  for  the  promotion  of  the  Redeemer's  king 
dom.  The  ladies  seem  to  appreciate  her  society  most  high 
ly.  They  often  pass  an  afternoon  with  her,  or  take  her  in 
their  carriages  to  ride  ;  or  they  accompany  her  on  some  er 
rand  to  the  dwellings  of  the  poor.  Recently  they  gave 
her  a  most  exquisitely  delicate  set  of  China  for  her  tea  ta 
ble,  and  as  she  might  want  some  spending  money  to  pur 
chase  articles  of  dress  agreeable  to  herself,  they  accompa 
nied  it  with  a  twenty-dollar  note. 


152  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

May  25. — The  young  gentlemen  of  the  Parish,  not  wish 
ing  to  be  behindhand  in  contributing  to  the  comfort  of 
their  minister  and  his  lady,  have  this  day  sent  him  a  pres 
ent  of  a  beautiful  top  buggy,  which  they  purchased  in  the 
city  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

We  know  that  these  expressions  of  kindness  are  properly 
esteemed  by  them.  They  sigh  less  for  the  want  of  per 
sonal  comforts,  they  assure  us,  than  over  the  coldness  and 
apathy  of  the  church,  and  the  common  and  too  apparent 
worldliness  and  neglect  of  religion  on  the  part  of  multi 
tudes  to  whom  this  life,  though  an  unspeakable  blessing,  is 
their  all  of  probation. 

Our  Pastor  has  been  quite  unwell  of  late.  He  is  now 
again  apparently  restored. 

June  15. — The  new  church  frame  is  all  up,  and  is  nearly 
enclosed.  "  What  a  tall  spire  !"  says  every  one.  "  What 
a  large  and  noble  edifice,  that !"  say  the  strangers  that  go 
by.  In  the  meantime  we  worship  in  the  hall  of  the  Acade 
my,  and  if  ever  we  have  enjoyed  the  Sabbath  an<i  its  ser 
vices,  it  is  there.  So  strange  is  it,  that  man  is  wont  to 
measure  his  happiness  by  the  outward  appearance  and  con 
venience  of  things.  But  how  expressive  is  that  comment 
of  Jehovah  on  the  device  of  man,  "  Where  is  the  house 
that  ye  build  unto  me  ?  and  where  is  the  place  of  my 
rest  T  And  again,  "  Howbeit  the  Most  High  dwelleth  not 
in  temples  made  with  hands.  Heaven  is  my  throne,  and 
earth  is  my  footstool."  God  meets  with  his  people  where- 
ever  they  assemble  in  humility  and  love,  to  pray  unto  him 


PARISH-SIDE.  153 

and  to  praise  him.  *  *  *  And  yet,  we  are  all  anxious 
to  go  into  the  new  church,  and  even  impatient ! 

July  20. — How  vexatious  !  The  carpenters  have  all  left 
their  work  on  the  church  during  this  beautiful  weather,  and 
have  gone  home  to  cut  their  hay  and  grain  ! 

August  25. — The  house  proceeds,  but  slowly.  The  mas 
ter-builder  is  said  to  be  hurried  by  too  much  work  in  other 
places.  Our  committee  have  several  times  endeavored  to 
urge  him  on,  but  he  wrorks  no  faster. 

September  29. — The  master- workman  says  he  shall  lose 
money  by  his  contract.  We  fear,  consequently,  that  he 
will  slight  the  work.  It  said  by  some  that  the  contractor 
will  fail.  Perhaps  this  is  a  ruse  of  his  for  sympathy. 

October  10. — The  men  are  again  all  gone  for  a  week  !  It 
is  said  they  are  engaged  in  securing  a  bridge  that  is  only 
partially  strung,  against  the  fall  floods,  and  which  our  con 
tractor  has  on  his  hands. 

October  15. — The  workmen  are  yet  away,  and  the  church 
is  not  ready  to  plaster.  It  is  very  trying  to  our  patience. 
It  seems  strange  that  a  contractor  should  engage  more  busi 
ness  than  he  can  accomplish  in  a  given  time  !  We  did 
hope  to  go  into  the  new  church  by  the  middle  of  Novem 
ber.  That  hope  is  broken.  But  we  are  gratified  to  have 
received  again,  re-cast  and  as  beautiful  as  ever,  our  poor 
and  cavalierly-used  bell !  Coionel  Arrs  says,  "  we  shan't 
see  the  carpets  on  the  new  church  till  next  April !"  This 
seems  like  mockery,  and  trifling  ;  and  yet  it  may  be  true  ! 

7* 


154  PARISH-SIDE. 

Mr.  Williams  tells  us  that  we  must  have  patience ;  "  by- 
and-bye  it  will  all  be  accomplished." 

November  12. — The  wrork  of  plastering  the  church  is  now 
going  on.  We  are  now  only  anxious  that  it  should  be  put 

on  in  time  to  save  it  from  the  frost !  The  church  in  B 

lost  its  ceiling  by  the  frost.  One  afternoon  soon  after  the 
congregation  had  left,  it  all  fell  with  a  tremendous  crash 
into  the  slips  and  aisles  below  ! 

December  12. — The  cold  is  beginning  to  pinch.  The 
builders  are  doing  everything  in  their  power  by  stoves  to 
hurry  the  drying  of  the  mortar  on  the  walls.  Mrs.  Wil 
liams  has  been  quite  sick  with  a  fever  for  several  days. 
Her  husband  seems  to  be  very  anxious  about  her.  He  is 
not  well  himself.  The  ladies  have  been  very  kind  and  at 
tentive  to  her. 

December  30. — The  contractor  says  that  he  has  lost 
money  by  all  his  jobs,  and  that  this  will  ruin  him  unless 
he  can  have  five  hundred  dollars  in  addition  to  the  original 
contract,  and  that  even  then  he  "  cannot  have  the  house 
ready  till  the  first  of  March." 

"  Say  April,"  was  the  reply  of  Colonel  Arrs. 

Hope  deferred  makes  the  heart  sick.  I  am  becoming 
indifferent  now  whether  we  go  into  it  in  February,  March, 
April,  or  even  May.  So  singularly  does  the  mind  act,  when 
it  has  been  a  long  time  on  the  stretch  and  repeatedly  disap 
pointed.  Mrs.  Street  says,  "  the  house  has  been  so  long  in 
building  I  don't  pretend  to  recollect  precisely  where  we 


PARISH-SIDE.  155 

Mrs.  Williams  having  recovered  from  her  indisposition, 
has  invited  the  ladies  to  meet  at  the  Parsonage  to  decide 
about  the  carpets  and  such  other  furniture  of  the  church  a# 
they  propose  to  furnish. 

****** 

We  are  all  now  passively  waiting  for  Spring  ! 


CHAPTER   XXIY. 

TROUBLE    FROM     ABROAD. 

WE  have  suffered  ourselves  to  dream  that  all  was  well, 
and  that  now  we  were  passed  the  point  of  further  trial,  or 
perhaps  of  correction.  How  stupid,  how  short-sighted, 
how  feeble  and  how  unwise  in  judgment  is  man.  He  needs 
constant  chastening  in  order  to  teach  him  what  he  is,  and 
whither  his  steps  are  leading  him.  We  need  this  surely,  or 
the  Lord  who  has  been  gracious  to  us  would  not  so  often 
lay  his  hand  upon  us.  It  is  true,  we  have  not  again  broken 
our  bell,  burnt  up  our  church,  or  lost  Colonel  Arrs ;  but 
we  have  but  just  saved  ourselves  from  the  loss  of  our  Pas 
tor!  And  that  not  by  feebleness,  sickness,  mortal  bereave 
ment  and  sorrow.  Then  we  could  have  borne  it.  But  by 

a  call  from  the  wealthy  church  in  the  town  of  R .     It 

is,  we  suppose,  one  of  the  strongest  and  most  influential 
churches  in  the  State.  And  having  recently  lost  their  aged 
and  beloved  Pastor,  what  do  they  but  invade  our  peaceful 
fold,  I  will  say  as  hungry  wolves  for  prey,  and  seizing  our 
own  good,  talented,  beloved,  necessary,  and  honored  Pastor, 
attempt  by  a  call,  and  a  bribe,  to  draw  him  from  us  !  Is 


PARISH -SIDE.  157 

this  right  ?  Is  this  after  Christ  1  Is  this  the  studying  of 
things  that  work  for  peace  1  Had  we  a  poor  minister  they 
would  not  thank  us  for  him.  Had  we  a  quarrel,  they  would 
not  have  hushed  it  by  gently  removing  him  from  us.  Did 
we  wish  them  to  take  him  they  would  have  repelled  our 
overtures  as  an  insult.  But  because  he  is  good  and  talent 
ed,  say,  they,  "  He  is  just  the  man  for  us,  let  them  find 
another  man  good  enough  for  them.  We  can  give  him  a 
thousand  dollars  salary  and  a  bonus  of  five  hundred  more." 
So  they  offered  it.  So  they  sought  to  do  themselves  good 
at  our  imminent  peril.  Is  this  right  1  No — it  is  not  right. 
If  the  Pastor  wished  to  leave  us,  or  if  we  wished  mutually 
to  separate,  the  case  would  be  entirely  different.  But  to 
come  in  and  make  a  breach  and  produce  a  quarrel  where 
now  there  is  harmony,  can  only  be  wrong.  The  history  of 
our  church  for  the  last  twenty  years  is  one  of  struggle,  in 
part  growing  out  of  ministerial  relations.  Now  that  we 
are  at  peace,  it  savors  of  Satan's  artifice  to  introduce  this 
apple  of  discord,  gold  though  it  may  be.  We  knew  by  the 
haggard  and  care-worn  expression  of  our  Pastor's  face,  that 
something  more  than  usual  rested  on  his  mind,  but  we  were 
happy  to  learn  at  length,  that  though  repeatedly  visited  and 
entreated  by  a  select  committee  of  the  most  influential  citi 
zens  of  that  place,  to  yield  to  their  wishes,  he  decidedly  re 
fused  ;  having,  as  he  said,  sought  earnestly  at  the  throne  of 
grace  for  the  direction  of  his  Heavenly  Father.  He  told 
them  that  he  was  not  unmindful  of  the  honor  conferred  in 
their  selecting  him  to  fill  a  place  which  one  of  the  most 


158  PARISH-SIDE. 

eminent  divines  of  the  day  had  occupied  so  long  and  so 
successfully,  and  towards  which  the  eyes  of  many  a  minis 
ter  of  more  ability  than  he  himself  possessed,  were  un 
doubtedly  turned  with  more  or  less  desire.  But  he  assured 
them  that  he  could  not  view  the  call  to  leave  his  own  peo 
ple,  as  one  sent  to  him  from  the  great  head  of  the  church. 

There  was  soon  a  whispering  of  what  was  on  foot  #mong 
the  people.  As  none  of  the  proceedings  came  to  light, 
there  broke  out  a  common  expression  first  of  grief,  then  of 
indignation,  and  subsequently  great  rejoicings  and  congratu 
lations. 

Mr.  Williams,  in  order  to  give  a  true  version  of  the 
whole  business  to  the  Parish,  in  the  place  of  an  erroneous 
one,  that  would  be  "  guessed"  up  if  he  did  not,  at  the  close 
of  the  service  one  Sabbath,  informed  the  congregation  of  the 
matter,  in  a  brief  rehearsal  of  the  principal  points  of  the 
case. 

When  he  came  to  the  conclusion,  they  were  ready  to 
break  out  in  one  general  "  hurrah  !"  "  good,"  "  that's  right," 
but  their  good  sense  restrained  them.  However,  after 
being  dismissed,  a  great  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  crowd 
ed  around  him,  and  assured  him  of  their  warm  appreciation 
of  the  motives  by  which  he  had  been  governed,  and  of  the 
strong  hold  on  their  affections  which  he  had  secured  by  his 
course. 

And  now  we  learn,  although  this  whole  matter  is  very 
recent,  that,  as  though  the  Lord  would  frown  on  the  acts 
which  a  sister  church  has  been  guilty  of,  viz.,  that  of  tempting 


PARISH -SIDE.  159 

away  from  one  that  was  a  little  less  strong  than  itself,  a 
faithful  shepherd,  and  leaving  the  fold  unprotected,  the 

church  iii  R is  in  a  violent  dispute  concerning  another 

man,  and  that  it  is  almost  certain  it  will  be  torn  asunder  ! 
And  we  have  also  heard  that  a  frown  no  less  significant 
than  this,  has  rested  on  the  rich  Holland  street  church  in 

the  city  of  W ,  which  was  guilty  of  enticing  away  from 

a  country  church  a  minister  of  considerable  reputation  and 
gifts,  and  placing  him  over  itself.  In  a  very  short  time,  it 
was  found  that  he  was  not  the  right  sort  of  a  minister  for  the 
city,  much  as  he  might  have  been  esteemed  in  the  country, 
and  that  unless  he  could  be  shaken  off,  the  church  would 
sink  into  feebleness  and  contempt.  A  great  rebuke  this, 
both  on  the  minister,  if  he  were  ambitious,  and  on  the 
church. 

May  heaven  grant  that  no  root  of  bitterness  to  trouble 
us,  may  grow  out  of  this  affair,  so  fortunately,  as  it  would 
seem  by  the  good  providence  of  God,  blown  over. 

Recently,  some  difficulty  in  the  CHOIR  has  caused  us 
anxiety.  It  is  not  easy  to  tell  where  it  will  end,  nor  is  it 
any  less  difficult  to  know  precisely  what  it  is  all  about.  But 
there  is  a  great  amount  of  ill  feeling  produced,  and  it  is  ex 
tending  all  through  the  society.  The  friends  of  one  party 
talk  hard  against  the  apologists  for  the  other,  and  we  have 
been  mortified  beyond  expression  to  see  our  large  and 
elegant  choir  all  leave  the  orchestra,  and  refuse  to  take  any 
part  in  the  singing.  We  have,  of  late,  had  what  is  termed 
" congregational  singing"  the  whole  audience  uniting  in  it, 


160  PARISH-SIDE. 

but  the  pleasure  of  it  is  greatly  diminished  by  our  con 
stantly  being  reminded  of  its  cause.  Under  the  circum 
stances,  moreover,  it  seems  a  constrained  effort  at  cheerful 
praise.  We  know,  how  loud  and  rich  soever  the  voices 
rise,  that  the  members  of  the  choir  consider  it  but  a  dernier 
resort,  and  that  all  the  partisans  of  both  sides  hold  it  in  de 
rision,  or  else  shrug  their  shoulders  in  nervous  irritability 
of  mind. 

It  appears  that  the  origin  of  the  trouble  was  something 
like  this,  although  I  would  noli  by  any  means  assert  that 
other  points  of  dispute  were  not  involved.  Mr.  Whitman, 
the  chorister,  who,  by  the  way,  is  the  Principal  of  our 
Academy,  is  said  to  have  intimated  to  Horace  Myers,  a 
tenor  singer,  that  he  was  constantly  in  the  habit  of  falling 
from  the  pitch,  and  producing  a  discord.  Horace,  who  has 
frequently  led  the  choir  when  there  was  no  other  one  pres 
ent  able  to,  and  who  is  proud  of  his  singing  as  of  anything, 
retorted  on  him  sharply,  and  accused  him  of  selecting  music 
that  nobody  could  perform,  and  especially  of  singing  minor 
pieces.  Horace  then  took  his  hat,  and  went  down  stairs. 
In  the  afternoon  his  sister  also  deserted  the  choir.  A  great 
flare-up  followed,  and  we  have  been  four  weeks  in  a  very 
unsettled  state. 

We  fear  that  our  pastor  will,  in  some  way,  find  himself 
committed  with  either  one  party  or  the  other.  Mr.  Whit 
man  frequently  calls  on  him,  and,  perhaps,  freely  converses 
with  him  about  it.  And  two  or  three  days  ago,  Horace 
Myers  and  his  sister  called  there.  It  would  not  be  strange 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  1G1 

if  Mr.  Williams  should  let  drop  some  remark  that  one 
party  or  the  other  might  report  to  his  disadvantage.  He 
has  told  me,  that  he  can't  see  where  the  thing  will  end. 
And  I  know  that  Mrs.  Williams,  who  thinks  highly  of  Ma 
tilda  Myers,  is  quite  distressed  about  it.  Archibald  says 
it  will  all  blow  over  by-and-by. 

The  minister  of  Surry,  a  few  years  ago,  took  such  a  per 
sonal  interest  in  a  difficulty  of  this  sort,  that  it  led  to  his 
dismission.  The  whole  town  was  stirred  up  by  the  contro 
versy.  The  minister  preached  about  it,  and  prayed,  and 
conversed,  thinking,  I  suppose,  that  he  should  be  able  to 
quell  the  excitement ;  but  his  own  feelings  becoming 
deeply  enlisted  on  one  side  of  the  belligerents,  the  result 
was  his  dismission,  and  a  great  split  in  the  society.  All  the 
wisdom  of  a  large  council  of  eminent  ministers  was  called 
for  to  preserve  the  church  from  ruin. 

As  far  as  I  can  learn  from  both  parties  in  this  contro 
versy,  Mr.  Williams  has  as  yet  identified  himself  with 
neither,  nor  said  anything  to  offend. 

Deacon  Ilartwell,  Deacon  Armstrong,  and  Deacon  Wil- 
lard,  together  with  Esquire  Peters,  met  together  the  other 
day,  and  discussed  the  whole  matter.  I  believe  they  intend 
to  see  the  principals  in  this  unhappy  affair,  and  endeavor  to 
effect  a  compromise. 

****** 

March  %d. — The  committee  of  deacons  for  pacificating  the 
choir  controversy,  spent  the  whole  of  yesterday  with  the 
parties,  but  accomplished  nothing.  Mr.  Whitman  threatens 


162  PARISH-SIDE. 

to  leave  town,  an  event  we  should  deplore,  for  he  is  a  valu 
able  instructor  at  the  Academy,  and  a  man  who  has  inter 
ested  himself  a  good  deal  in  the  young  society  of  the 

village. 

****** 

March  10th. — Joy  !  joy.  At  last,  through  the  persever 
ance  of  the  Committee,  and  a  few  judicious  female  helpers, 
the  difficulty  in  our  choir  has  reached  the  end.  All  parties 
seem  to  be  reconciled,  but  I  dare  not  inquire  on  what  basis 
the  settlement  was  effected.  Last  Sabbath  the  singers 
were  in  their  old  places.  I  will  let  "  well  enough"  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  DEDICATION  OVE  R — T  HE  SEXTON  ALONE. 

COLONEL  ARRS  was  right.  January,  February,  March, 
came  and  went.  Still  we  were  prevented  from  worshipping 
in  our  new,  elegant  and  noble  house.  But  April  has  come  ! 
April !  with  its  warm  sun  and  promise  of  summer.  Yes,  at 
last  we  have  reached  the  long-deferred  hope !  We  have 
come  to  the  point  of  many  expectations,  sighs,  and  prayers. 
We  have  now  our  new  house  of  worship  !  and  it  is  arranged 
with  so  much  taste,  neatness,  and  convenience,  that  we  all 
exclaim,  "  How  beautiful !  how  rich  !"  We  find  our  way 
to  our  slips  with  ill-concealed  pride,  and  an  uneasy  humility. 
We  hardly  know  whether  we  most  admire  the  beautiful  and 
appropriate  discourses  of  our  pastor,  or  the  soft  and  luxuri 
ous  cushions  we  sit  on.  We  admire  the  minister  as  he 
speaks,  but  "  oh  !  what  a  splendid,  elegant  model  of  a  pul 
pit  does  he  preach  in."  The  choir  pour  out  full  tones  of 
happy  song,  but  "  what  a  splendid  reflection  and  echo  do  the 
arches  and  fretted  vaults  give  back."  The  aisles  are  broad 
enough  to  accommodate  all  the  people  as  they  come  and  go, 
but  "  indeed,  what  a  soft  and  rich  carpet  do  they  press  with 


104  PARISH-SIDE. 

their  feet !"  "  Delicate  fresco  !  beautiful  and  perfect  rep 
resentation  of  architecture  itself,  the  divine,  lofty  art." 
"  What  a  melodious  bell !  fit  to  adorn  even  that  tall,  and 
beautiful  spire,  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  high !"  The 
very  doors  of  the  sanctuary  swing  easily  on  their  hinges, 
and  invite  us  who  have  been  long,  long,  long  from  HOME, 
and  are  weary,  to  go  in  and  regale  ourselves.  And  yet,  it 
is  the  LORD'S  !  How  can  mortal  man  build  unto  Him  a 
temple  in  which  he  will  abide,  if  the  heart  be  not  itself  the 
temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost?  What  house  will  YE  build 
unto  me,  saith  the  Lord  ?  May  we  in  due  time  learn  to 
feel,  as  we  cross  the  threshold,  that  "  this  is  none  other  but 
the  house  of  God,  and  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven !"  May  it 
be  said,  also,  of  many,  "  This,  and  that  man  were  born  in 
her." 

The  dedication  of  the  house  was  one  of  the  best  things  of 
the  kind  that  ever  came  off  in  this  Parish.  As  it  was  ad 
vertised  in  the  papers,  and  the  house  had  been  long  in 
building,  and  was  greatly  admired  as  a  model,  a  very  large 
concourse  of  people  assembled,  filling  the  galleries  as  well 
as  the  floor  and  aisles  below.  In  the  pulpit,  with  Mr.  Wil 
liams,  were  the  Eev.  Dr.  Heartwell,  of  the  city  of  A , 

Rev.  Prof.  Dewdings,  of  the  University  at  N ,  the  Rev. 

Messrs.  Brown,  of  Hunting,  Comstock,  of  West  Edgefield, 
and  Scott,  of  Uplandville.  The  sermon  by  our  pastor  was 
from  the  words  of  the  patriarch  Jacob,  "  And  Jacob  awaked 
out  of  his  sleep,  and  he  said,  surely  the  LORD  is  in  this 
place,  and  I  knew  it  not.  And  he  was  afraid,  and  said,  how 


PARIS  II -SIDE  1G5 

dreadful  is  this  place  !  this  is  none  other  but  the  house  of 
God,  and  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven."  Never  did  he  exhibit 
a  richer,  broader  spirit  of  the  gospel  minister,  than  on  this 
occasion.  Never  did  he  seem  to  us  so  eminently  happy  in 
his  remarks  and  illustrations ;  never  did  he  with  more  deli 
cacy  and  truth,  refer  to  the  history  of  the  Parish,  especially 
for  the  last  year.  Frequently,  as  he  alluded  to  trials  and 
discouragements,  did  his  voice  falter,  and  his  eye  was  for  a 
moment  dimmed.  But  then  the  recollection  of  attendant 
mercy  and  blessing  restored  him,  and  restored  us  who  heard 
him,  and  both  himself  and  the  people  mingled  together  their 
sadness  and  joy. 

It  was  a  touching  little  incident  to  rehearse,  which  I  have 
spoken  about  -already,  namely,  the  donation  of  twenty-five 
dollars  from  the  society  of  West  Edgefield.  The  manner  in 
which  he  referred  to  it,  caused  the  whole  audience  to  weep. 

"  Never,"  said  he,  "  may  they  want  a  friend  in  the  hour 
of  their  necessity." 

It  seemed  almost  too  much  for  the  good  pastor  of  that 
Parish  to  bear,  as  he  sat  in  the  pulpit,  and  was  so  unexpect 
edly  made  to  hear  the  just  praises  of  his  own  poor  people. 

The  choir  gave  us  some  of  their  best  efforts.  They  seem 
now  to  be  entirely  harmonious,  and  their  singing  was  exe 
cuted  in  high  taste. 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  as  Mrs.  Alexander  was  going  off 
the  steps  of  the  church,  she  made  a  misstep  and  fell.  She 
was  able,  with  assistance,  to  rise,  and  was  supported  home, 
groaning  bitterly,  and  complaining  of  a  sprained  ankle. 


166  PARISH-SIDE.  •  ^, 

But  although  she  has  since  been  entirely  confined  to  her 
bed,  she  has  the  best  of  care,  and  will,  the  doctor  thinks, 
walk  again  in  a  few  weeks. 

But  what  a  happy  man  is  the  sexton !  He  will  hardly 
allow  Deacon  Hartwell,  or  even  Mr.  Williams,  to  touch  his 
bell  rope ;  and  although  he  has  the  same  dress,  the  same 
sallow,  meagre-looking  aspect,  there  is  a  brilliancy  in  his 
eye  that  lights  up  his  features  with  an  unusual  animation, 
when,  with  one  hand  only  on  the  rope,  he  brings  the  nicely- 
adjusted  be'll  to  its  equipoise  with  a  single  revolution,  and 
sends  afar,  over  hill  and  dale,  the  deep  rich  tones  he  loves 
so  well. 

The  services  of  the  dedication  were  over,  and  the  people 
had  dispersed.  Carefully  the  lights  were  all  extinguished, 
and  the  lantern  flame  of  the  sexton  was  alone  burning,  cast 
ing  but-  a  pale  spectral  glare  around  the  porch,  while  its 
owner  was  buttoning  his  coat  to  leave,  and,  as  his  custom 
was,  soliloquizing  with  himself,  thus  : 

"  Don't  tell  me  they'll  build  a  church  over  in  the  "  Hol 
low"  smarter  than  this  ;  they  can't  do  it.  I  know  they  are 
picking  up  there  nicely.  They  say  that  old  Hurams  is  go 
ing  £0  move  in  there,  and  put  up  his  clock  factory,  with  a 
hundred  men.  What  of  that  f  Perhaps  he  won't  build  a 
church  for  'em  if  he  does.  He  may  give  'em  a  twenty- 
dollar  clock !  ha  !  ha  !  But  where'll  they  get  such  a  bell  as 
that?  (pointing  to.  the  belfry.)  Ah!  that's  a  bell!  Now 
just  hear  it —  No  !  no !  it  won't  do,"  and  he  let  go  the 
rope,  which  he  had  involuntarily  seized  with  both  hands. 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  10? 

"  Besides,  what's  the  use  of  two,  when  one  hand's  enough  ? 
I  will  say  of  Colonel  Arrs,  the  best  thing  he  ever  did  was  to 
save  the  old  bell.  Never  was  there  such  metal  in  a  ringer 
afore.  She's  the  very  old  zinc  itself,  some  gold  and  silver 
in  it,  and  steel,  I  s'pose.  Didn't  I  pilot  the  ministers  into 
the  new  pulpit  handsomely  ?  Didn't  I  save  a  few  of  the 
best  slips  for  smart  ones  ?  Mercy  on  us !  how  the  lamps 
glimmered — you'd  have  thought  'urn.  real  gasses.  And 
what  lots  of  people  filled  up  'bove  and  below.  And  the 
minister  preached  good — fust  rate,  too.  He  al'ays  does  for 
that.  And  the  gals  gave  us  singing,  too,  I  reckun — yes, 
they're  keen  on  voice.  But  oh  !  what  a  bell,  what  a  bell ! 
I'm  a  good  mind  jist  to  go  up  and  look  at  it,  and  say  '  good 
night.'  Everybody  says  '  good  night'  to  his  friend.  I  will. 
I'll  go  and  see  my  friend." 

So  he  went  warily  up,  up  into  the  belfry,  and  feasted  his 
eyes  with  the  sight  of  his  idol  in  repose,  and  stooped  down 
and  looked  up  into  its  arch,  and  felt  its  smooth  and  heavy 
sides,  and  admired  again  and  again  its  beautiful  proportions. 
Ah!  idoliser! 

So  magnified  the  sexton  his  office. 

Of  all  the  parish  of  Edgefield  who  were  made  happy  by 
the  opening  of  the  new  church,  who  more  happy  than  he  ? 


CHAPTEE    XXYI. 

CHURCH     PROPRIETIES     AND     IMPROPRIETIES. 

How  desirable  a  thing  is  order,  and  a  due  regard  to  the 
proprieties  of  life,  howsoever  that  life  may  be  viewed. 
Especially  do  we  love  a  true  taste  in  the  arrangement  of 
things.  We  admire  this  in  persons,  and  in  the  works  of 
art.  We  are  affected,  also,  by  dignity  of  deportment,  and 
by  calm,  cool,  manly  self-possession.  We  copy  the  fairest, 
and  best  examples,  and  find  our  highest  happiness  in  habits 
of  order,  taste,  and  propriety. 

I  have  often  thought  of  the  church  as  a  model  of  these, 
by  the  necessity  of  nature.  The  serious,  devout,  grave  and 
still  nature  of  religion,  appeals  to  these  elements  of  con 
ception  in  the  soul,  and  man  who  worships,  finds  a  refresh 
ment  of  his  being  in  the  sombre,  quiet,  solemn  temple,  in 
unison  with  things  that  are  true.  So  much  of  our  time  is 
employed  in  worldly  business,  in  frivolous  pleasures,  in  the 
common  cases  of  earth,  that  religion,  if  she  be  to  us  a  reno 
vator,  and  truthful  instructor,  must  speak  out  of  her  holy 
places  in  accents  of  true  order,  taste,  solemnity,  and  pro 
priety. 


PARISH-SIDE.  160 

We  do  not  want  the  frivolity  of  the  drawing-room,  nor 
the  studied  politeness  of  the  thronged,  gay  promenade,  nor 
the  din  of  the  camp,  nor  yet  the  boorishness  of  ignorance 
and  stupidity,  to  give  their  form  to  the  sanctuary. 

The  Edgefield  Church  enjoys  the  benefit  of  four  beautiful 
elms,  which  in  the  summer  cast  an  agreeable  shade  upon  it, 
and  help  to  shut  away  the  rays  of  the  sun.  The  blinds  arc 
also  of  gseat  service  in  protecting  the  audience  from  a  too 
glaring  light.  And  there  is  a  stillness  and  solemnity  in  the 
house,  that  is  gratifying  to  all  who  love  the  Sabbath,  and 
find  delight  in  the  public  service  of  God. 

We  can  but  notice  the  great  propriety  of  manner  which 
the  people  observe  with  those  who  unite  with  us  in  our 
worship.  They  enter  the  house  with  a  still  and  careful 
tread.  They  go  directly  as  possible  with  no  confusion  to 
their  slips.  They  sit  down  quietly  to  listen  to  the  word 
that  may  be  spoken.  They  are  not  incessantly  rising  here 
and  there,  to  exchange  seats,  to  bow  and  smile  and  chatter. 
They  seem  in  earnest  to  worship  God. 

The  church  in  the  stirring  village  of  Turnwheel,  which  is 
situated  ten  or  fifteen  miles  north-west  of  this  town,  is  a 
very  handsome  edifice,  with  a  tall  steeple  and  loud  bell. 
But  it  is  built  on  a  sandy  soil,  without  a  tree  around  it,  and 
as  close  to  the  street  as  possible.  The  service  is  one  of 
great  inattention,  the  young  people  seem  glad  to  see  each 
other  and  shake  hands,  and  pass  compliments  profusely 
around  the  entrances,  at  the  registers,  and  in  the  slips,  before 
the  mipister  begins  to  speak.  The  organ  is  played  all  the 


170  PARISH-SIDE. 

morning,  from  the  first  bell  till  the  minister  is  seated,  and 
sometimes  long  after,  as  the  organist  wishes  to  learn  all  he 
can  at  these  leisure  moments,  and  to  show  off  the  quality 
of  the  instrument,  not  to  say  his  own  science,  to  the  won 
dering  people  as  they  come  in.  The  singers  are  very  busy 
turning  over  their  leaves,  whispering,  smiling,  bowing. 
Everything  seems  quite  cheerful  and  easy. 

In  the  meantime,  the  church  is  filling  up.  Gentlemen 
rise  and  leave  their  seats,  three  or  four  in  a  platoon,  to  ac 
commodate  a  lady.  Some  one  beckons  with  his  hand  to  a 
friend  on  the  other  side  of  the  church  to  come  and  sit  with 
him.  Gentlemen  slam  their  pew  doors,  and  make  a  blus 
ter,  a  few  pious  souls  make  their  way  through  all  this  ir 
reverence  and  clamor  into  the  regions  of  Sabbath  day 
meditation  and  spiritual  consecration,  but  even  they  cast 
uneasy  and  imploring  glances  at  the  pulpit  to  see  if  the 
minister  is  not  arrived  and  about  to  commence. 

Such,  most  happily,  is  not  the  state  of  things  with  our 
selves.  Few  are  the  people  who  assemble  at  the  church 
before  the  ringing  of  the  "  second"  bell.  And  usually  it  is 
true,  that  still  fewer  come  in  after  the  bell  has  ceased  toll 
ing.  As  I  have  before  observed,  they  enter  the  house  and 
seek  their  slips  as  those  in  earnest  to  worship  God.  They 
are  sober  without  melancholy,  they  are  reverential  without 
dissimulation,  they  are  respectful  and  courteous  without 
officiousness  and  vanity. 

When  the  Pastor  arrives,  Mr,  Parks  suspends  the  tolling 
of  his  bell,  though  every  one  of  its  vibrations  is  music  to 


PARISH -SIDE.  171 

his  soul.  He  then  immediately  conducts  the  strangers  who 
may  be  present  to  the  vacant  slips,  and  disposes  of  himself 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  hear  the  word.  As  the  Pastor  goes 
into  his  desk,  the  soft  and  solemn  tones  of  the  organ  rise 
and  cast  their  indescribably  precious  and  subduing  influence 
over  the  soul.  The  minister  sits  calmly  down  in  his  pulpit 
and  selects  the  passages  of  Scripture  to  be  read,  and  the 
hymns  which  are  to  follow.  He  seems  to  be  occupied  with 
sober,  solemn  meditation  and  prayer.  Directly  as  the 
tones  of  the  organ  diminish  away  into  vibrations  imper 
ceptible  to  mortal  sense,  sonorous  and  glorious  harmony 
e'en  yet,  it  may  be,  to  all  that  hath  life,  by  us  unseen,  he 
rises  with  the  solemnity,  dignity  and  propriety  of  the  man 
of  God,  the  "  legate  of  the  skies,"  to  implore  the  blessing 
of  Heaven  !  Great  and  solemn  and  interesting  duty  ! 
How  can  it  ever  be  performed  with  other  than  holy  and 
reverential  decorum  1 

I  am  aware,  however,  that  as  much  as  we  love  our  dark 
and  solemn  church,  and  the  order  and  propriety  that  pre 
vails  in  our  assembly  and  worship,  there  are  congregations 
who  differ  from  us  in  respect  of  these  very  matters.  I 
have  already  referred  to  one.  They  seem  to  love  the  light, 
and  throw  open  the  windows  and  blinds  as  much  as  possi 
ble.  The  noise  and  dust  from  without  unite  with  the  con 
fusion  within,  to  drive  out  of  the  soul  much  of  its  innate, 
and  nearly  all  of  its  acquired  solemnity. 

If  then  the  choir  has  no  self-respect — the  members  of  it 
tittering  and  whispering  when  not  singing — and  when  sing- 


172  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

ing,  such  singing !  rather  screaming  for  their  own  gratifica 
tion  and  in  orchestral  rivalry  than  in  soul-felt  melody  lead 
ing  God's  worshiping  people  nearer  the  SHEKINAH,  the  Lord 
of  grace  and  glory ;  if  the  Pastor  is  careless  of  his  own 
deportment,  restlessly  moving  about  in  the  pulpit,  extrava 
gantly  gazing  here  and  there,  undignified  in  his  manner,  not 
unfrequently  troubling  himself  to  find  seats  for  the  people, 
his  attention  manifestly  all  absorbed  in  other  than  the  great 
and  important  errand  that  should  have  taken  him  to  the 
sanctuary,  if  the  congregation  are  idle  and  listless  in  their 
manner,  and  it  may  be  actually  disrespectful  and  thought 
less,  what  good  can  be  expected  from  the  courts  of  the  Lord  ? 
There  is  a  little  church  nestled  sweetly  among  the  trees 
in  the  quiet  village  of  Bath,  where  the  neatness  of  the 
house,  the  taste  displayed  in  all  its  arrangements  for  the 
convenience  of  speaker  and  hearer,  and  the  propriety  of  the 
worshippers  in  all  their  deportment  fills  the  most  giddy 
mind  with  awe,  and  awakens  the  liveliest  interest  in  the 
considerate  and  prayerful.  The  servant  of  God  speaks  as 
though  sent  from  heaven  to  men.  The  voices  of  praise  lift 
up  the  soul  and  gladden  it,  or  melt  into  contrition  all  the 
pride  of  unrenewed  natures  and  thus  prepares  them  for  the 
reception  of  the  pure  word  of  grace.  If,  of  any  on  earth, 
it  is  around  such  scenes  that, 

" holy  memories  cluster, 

Like  the  stars  when  storms  are  past 

Pointing  up  to  that  far  heaven 
"We  may  hope  to  gain  at  last." 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  173 

Our  Pastor  has  won  no  small  share  of  the  good  opinion 
of  his  people  and  of  strangers  also,  by  his  consistent 
brevity,  and  scriptural  phraseology  in  prayer.  His  pf  ayers 
are  short,  rarely  ever  occupying  more  than  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes  of  the  service,  yet  are  they  not  wanting  in  copious 
ness  of  thought  and  propriety  of  expression.  They  are 
often  clothed  in  scriptural  language,  and  deeply  interest  and 
affect  the  hearer.  He  does  not  seem  to  pray  against  time, 
to  aid  a  short  sermon,  nor  so  much  for  the  ears  of  men  as 
for  their  hearts.  His  prayer  is  an  humble  thanksgiving,  a 
devout  praise,  a  broken  confession,  and  earnest  supplication. 
It  is  the  act  of  a  forgiven  sinner  in  communion  with  his 
God  and  Saviour. 

The  Rev.  Mr. ,  who  occasionally  preaches  to  us,  is 

remarkable  for  his  long  and  wordy  prayers.  They  are 
very  good  prayers  notwithstanding.  But  it  is  noticed  that 
as  twenty,  twenty-five  and  even  thirty  minutes  expire  un 
der  them,  how  the  people  become  uneasy,  sensitive,  ner 
vous,  and  frequently  dull,  as  though  the  prayer  were  a 
soporific,  a  gentle  opiate  to  the  wearied  mind.  He  does 
not  know  this  we  suppose.  He  may  be  very  much  elevated 
in  his  soul  by  his  communion  with  his  Maker,  but  even 
praying  hearers  often  wonder  that  he  continues  so  long 
upon  the  mount.  The  prayer  takes  the  widest  possible 
range,  and  using  up  all  time,  buries  itself  in  eternity.  Hav 
ing  nearly  got  through  the  latter,  it  comes  to  an  end,  often 
with  the  abruptness  of  one  who  starts  back  from  the  brow 
of  a  precipice.  Very  long  extempore  prayers  must  of 


174  PARISH-SIDE. 

course  be  a  great  exhaustion  to  him  who  offers  them,  and 
they  seldom  do,  in  comparison  with  short  ones,  their  pro 
portion  of  the  good. 

The  Rev.  Mr. preached  in  one  Parish  till  he  died 

in  old  age.  He  attributed  his  success,  in  a  great  measure, 
to  short  prayers,  short  hymns,  and  short  sermons. 

Mr.  Williams  seldom  gives  out  more  than  four  stanzas 
of  a  hymn — often  but  three.  Yet  sometimes  the  unity  of 
a  hymn  is  broken  unless  the  whole  be  read.  As  a  rule,  he 
prefers  that  the  singing  should  be  easy  and  merely  sufficient, 
rather  than  toilsome  and  an  over  feast. 

His  sermons  are  sometimes  long.  As  a  common  rule, 
however,  they  are  short.  They  rarely  exceed  thirty  min 
utes  in  length.  Sometimes  they  occupy  even  less  time.  I 
have  known  him  to  preach  a  full  hour.  He  takes  time  in 
his  study  to  condense  his  thoughts,  and  is  therefore  saved 
the  necessity  of  too  great  verbiage  in  the  pulpit.  His  ser 
mons  are  good  specimens  of  pulpit  address,  and  when  any 
of  them  have  been  printed,  they  have  been  read  with  atten 
tion,  and  admired  for  their  correctness  in  style  and  doc 
trine. 

He  is  not  much  accustomed  to  it,  but  he  can,  if  it  be  nec 
essary,  preach  extempore.  His  power  seems  to  lie  in  an 
earnest,  sincere  desire  to  do  good,  and  in  a  firm  belief  that 
the  effective  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  the  heaven-appointed 
instrument  by  which  to  accomplish  it. 

There  may  have  been  greater,  better  men  than  he,  but  he 
is  great  enough  and  good  enough  for  us. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

J  O  U  R  N  A  L — A  NXIETIES     OF    A     PARISH. 

SEPTEMBER  5th. — It  is  nearly  two  years  and  a  half  since 
Mr.  Williams  brought  here  his  interesting  lady.  We  have 
rejoiced  greatly  in  this  addition  to  our  society,  and  with 
them  in  their  happy  union.  How  well  do  they  seem  fitted 
for  one  another,  to  support  and  cheer  each  other  in  their  la 
bors  and  sacrifices,  and  to  give  all  that  judicious  counsel,  so 
much  necessary  in  the  station  they  fill.  They  seem  fre 
quently  overcome  with  a  sense  of  their  great  responsibility. 
There  is  often  a  shade  of  melancholy  on  his  brow,  and  he 
carries  about  an  exhausted  and  wearied  frame  that  we 
tremble  to  see.  Hitherto,  however,  he  has  been  sustained 
in  the  discharge  of  his  numerous  cares,  and  we  can  but 
hope  he  will  receive  strength  to  go  forward  in  his  Master's 
cause  for  many  a  year  still. 

What  a  great  blessing  is  their  little  infant  son  to  them, 
now  nearly  a  fortnight  old.  He  is  to  be  called  GEORGE, 
after  his  father.  I  am  told  they  are  very  much  delighted 
with  the  child,  and  that  they  may  well  be  fond  of  him,  as 
he  is  a  hearty,  noble-looking  boy !  He  will,  I  dare  say, 
help  "  drive  dull  care  away." 


}76  PARISH-SIDE. 

Esquire  Peters  made  a  sensible  remark  in  my  hearing 
the  other  day,  as  indeed  he  often  does.  It  was  this :  "  No 
one  man  has,  probably,  as  much  care  on  his  mind  continu 
ally,  as  an  earnest,  faithful  minister."  May  the  Lord,  then, 
sustain  our  minister. 

The  care  and  attention,  the  expense  and  management  of 
a  Parish,  is  also  no  trifling  consideration.  It  has  occurred 
to  me  that  there  are  few  persons  who  know  how  great  and 
how  unremitting  are  the  duties  that  fall  to  a  well-organized 
and  sustained  Parish.  Take  our  own  for  example.  As  I 
am  clerk  of  the  society,  it  is  in  my  power  to  tell  how  many 
society  meetings  have  been  called  in  any  given  period, 
within  the  last  ten  years.  There  have  been  fifteen  regu 
larly-warned  Parish  meetings  the  past  year.  And  whole 
days  have  been  consumed  in  discussions  as  to  what  course 
it  would  be  best  for  us  to  take  in  the  emergency  in  which 
we  found  ourselves,  and  respecting  the  good  of  the  society 
in  general.  Then  there  must  be  a  standing  committee,  and 
a  committee  of  building ;  committees  to  form  plans  and  sub 
mit  them  to  meetings ;  committee  on  the  bell ;  committee 
on  salary ;  committee  to  purchase  additional  lot  for  build 
ing  ;  committee  on  collection  of  funds.  All  these,  and 
others,  I  remember.  Then  what  a  tide  of  business  rolls  in 
upon  us.  We  must  make  and  hear  all  the  reports  of  com 
mittees.  We  must  attend  to  the  business  itself.  Large 
sums  of  money  must  be  raised,  and  this  by  going  in  person 
to  every  individual  of  the  Parish.  If  there  is  a  church  edi 
fice  to  build,  a  bell  to  be  recast,  or  lot  to  purchase,  or 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  177 

salary  to  be  raised,  then  the  society,  by  its  committees,  is« 
at  work  day  and  night,  till  all  is  done.  If  there  is  any  de 
lay,  it  must  be  remedied ;  if  discontent,  it  must  be  re 
moved.  If  the  pastor  be  uneasy,  he  must  be  humored  ;  and 
relieved,  if  poor  or  sick.  If  he  is  sought  for  by  another 
church,  every  effort  must  be  put  forth  to  retain  him,  though 
the  people  may  already  be  severely  burdened  with  taxes. 
If  the  choir  are  at  variance,  they  must  be  indulged  and  paci 
fied.  If  a  part  of  the  society  threaten  to  leave,  and  form  a 
new  one,' the  greatest  exertion  must  be  made  to  induce 
them  to  remain.  If  defamatory  reports  are  current  re 
specting  any  members  of  the  society,  they  must  be  traced 
out  and  silenced.  If  any  grumble  against  the  minister, 
they  must  be  reasoned  with,  and  brought  to  surrender.  If 
any  refuse  to  pay  their  taxes,  they  must  be  abated. 

And  so  it  is  in  the  church.  What  a  constant  attention  to 
the  forms  and  duties  of  the  covenant.  "What  anxiety  for 
the  spread  of  the  gospel,  and  for  the  growth  of  all  in  piety. 
What  efforts  to  honor  the  Sabbath,  to  attend  church 
through  wet,  and  cold,  and  storm,  and  heat.  What  sacri 
fices  of  time  and  convenience  to  collect  money  for  benevo 
lent  objects.  What  incessant  duties,  as  the  followers  of 
Christ,  do  they  perform  in  behalf  of  the  world ! 

The  thousand-and-one  vexations  they  meet  with  ;  the  lit 
tle  sympathy  extended  to  them  from  others  ;  the  anxieties 
they  have  every  Sabbath  for  the  minister,  that  he  may  edify 
the  church  and  save  souls  ;  for  his  good  name  before  strang 
ers  ;  and,  at  all  other  times,  for  his  health,  for  his  happiness, 

8* 


178  PA  RISK -SIDE. 

for  his  family,  for  his  comfortable  support,  know  all  they, 
who  either  as  society  men,  or  church  members,  have  felt 
resting  on  them  the  burden  of  sustaining  gospel  institutions 
by  their  substance,  and  by  their  exertions,  their  prayers  and 
sacrifices. 

Churches  and  Parishes  are  sometimes  distressed  on  ac 
count  of  unpleasant  and  mortifying  rumors  that  go  here 
and  there,  respecting  the  minister,  or  his  wife.  "  He  is  a 
frifler."  "  He  is  a  poor  preacher."  "  He  don't  care  for  the 
poor."  "  He  is  a  vain  man,  all  for  show."  "  He  has  about 
preached  himself  out."  "  He  is  already  candidating  for 
mother  pulpit."  "  All  he  cares  for  is  ease  and  money." 

Let  these  sayings  be  true  of  him,  and  no  slander,  and  how 
do  they  cut  to  the  heart  his  people  !  If  they  see  him  in  the 
sanctuary,  without  a  good  and  proper  preparation,  how 
mourn  they  over  his  neglect.  And  yet  they  are  easily 
pleased,  if  they  love  him.  His  elaborate  productions  on 
paper,  that  cost  him  many  weary  midnight  vigils,  and  long 
and  critical  study,  affording  them  no  more  real  pleasure,  oft, 
than  his  simple  extemporaneous  sermons,  that  flow  from  a 
warm  heart,  alive  with  the  flame  of  holy  love. 

Do  the  rumors  say  of  her  :  "  She  is  a  hinderance  to  his 
piety."  "  She  is  fond  of  dress,  and  extravagance."  "  She 
cares  nothing,  does  nothing  for  religion."  "  She  is  a  dis 
turber  of  the  quiet  of  the  parish."  "  Her  piety  is  all  on  the 
surface."  If  these  things  are  so,  how  heavy  is  the  reproach 
we  bear,  and  yet  how  simple  is  the  way  to  the  heart  of  a 
whole  parish  thus  mourning  on  account  of  these  reports. 


PAR  IS  II -SIDE.  179 

Let  her  but  serve  her  Saviour  in  the  simplicity  of  a  child 
like  confidence,  doing  her  main  works  from  love  to  him  and 
love  to  souls ;  how  soon  then  will  the  reproach  die  away 
and  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  God  be  at  rest ! 

How  thankful  then  ought  we  to  be  for  a  good  minister, 
and  an  endeared  Pastor's  wife  !  Has  not  the  Lord  given 
them  to  us  for  our  good — we  who  deserve  only  his  re 
bukes. 

What  a  season  has  the  past  two  years  been  to  us  of  loss, 
of  effort,  of  success,  of  anxiety,  of  keenest  suspense,  of 
wonderful  providences,  of  great  labor,  great  solicitudes, 
great  danger,  yet  of  striking  deliverances  and  mercies ! 

We  have  had  no  bad  luck  without  some  co-answering 
good,  no  good  without  some  bad.  So  is  it  ever  in  this 
world,  trial  and  mercy  go  together  hand  in  hand,  and  yet 
I  would  by  no  means  declare  that  our  afflictions  have  been 
as  heavy  as  our  mercies  have  been  rich,  and  undeserved. 
"  Praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness." 

****** 

The  engineers  for  surveying  the  route  of  the  Railroad 
through  our  town,  are,  it  is  said,  undecided  whether  to  run 
it  immediately  back  of  the  village  and  near  the  line  of  the 
factories,  or  in  the  "  Hollow"  village,  half  a  mile  west. 
This  is  a  matter  of  some  importance.  If  we  lose  the  road, 
it  will  be  a  disadvantage  to  us,  and  will  contribute  to  build 
up  the  "  Hollow."  They  already  begin  to  exult,  to  our  ex 
treme  sensitiveness.  They  say  they  will  soon  have  a  large 


180  PARISH-SIDE. 

church  there,  and  the  Methodists  have  already  commenced 
building  one. 

September  Wth. — There  is  a  good  deal  of  feeling  among 
us  about  the  Kailroad.  Deacon  Hartwell,  Esquire  Peters, 
Doctor  Alexander,  Marcus  Street,  Colonel  Arrs,  and  many 
others  of  our  first  men,  say  the  railroad  must  come  into 
our  village.  That  if  it  does  not,  it  will  injure  the  old  So 
ciety  and  our  whole  village  permanently,  and  beyond  re 
covery.  They  are  laboring  hard  to  induce  the  engineers  to 
give  this  route  the  preference.  On  the  other  hand,  old  Mr. 
Hurams,  the  clock  manufacturer,  who  has  built  a  large 
shop  in  the  "  Hollow,"  says  it  must  and  shall  go  there.  Al 
ready  the  two  villages  are  at  swords'-points  about  it.  The 
people  over  there  say  they  will  come  no  more  to  our 
church,  but  will  build  one  for  themselves,  and  if  possible 
get  Mr.  Williams  away  from  us  ;  that  they  have  as  much 
right  to  him  as  we  have. 

Truly,  we  are  again  launched  on  a  troubled  sea  !  Last 
Sabbath  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  brought  their  beautiful  in 
fant  son  to  the  church,  and  the  father  took  it  in  his  arms 
and  baptized  it. 

Mr.  Williams  looks  in  feeble  health. 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII. 

THE  YOUNG   FOLKS COMPANY   AT     ESQUIRE  PETERS. 

NOVEMBER  5th. — Colonel  Arrs  seems  to  be  a  different 
sort  of  a  person  truly,  from  what  he  was  formerly.  He  is 
always  at  church.  His  store  is  more  orderly.  His  man 
ners  more  soft  and  agreeable.  I  can  but  hope  that  his  heart 
has  received  some  serious  and  lasting  impressions.  His 
son  Henry  has  just  returned  from  Europe,  and  as  he  is  now 
twenty-two  years  of  age,  he  has  gone  into  the  store  as  a 
partner  in  the  business.  He  is  a  young  man  of  fine  charac 
ter,  and  a  professor  of  religion.  He  is  nearly  as  tall  as  his 
father,  and  has  a  sedate  and  very  gentlemanly  bearing, 
which  might  well  serve  all  the  young  men  of  the  place  as  a 
model.  Some  of  them  would  do  well  to  copy  some  model 
other  than  their  own.  I  am  sorry  that  there  are  any  among 
us  who  are  disposed  to  rowdyism.  But  the  truth  causes 
me  to  say  that  it  is  so.  We  were  afraid  that  Jonas  Hart- 
well  would  turn  out  badly,  but  he  became  seriously  im 
pressed  during  the  great  revival,  and  subsequently  made  a 
profession  of  religion.  Since  that  time  he  has  been  dili 
gently  engaged  in  studies,  and  has  this  fall  entered  College, 


182  PARISH -SIDE. 

we  hope  and  believe,  with  the  determination  to  become  a 
minister.  One  of  Mr.  Street's  sons  is  rather  wild,  I  do  not 
say  that  he  is  a  rowdy.  One  of  my  own  boys,  Thomas, 
causes  me  anxiety.  He  is  not  fond  of  his  books,  nor  does 
he  love  the  Lord  nor  the  sanctuary.  I  cannot  here  say  how 
much  my  heart  bleeds  for  him.  My  prayer  is  that  he  may 
be  saved,  indeed  I  think  he  will  be,  I  can  trust,  I  believe, 
the  promises  of  my  heavenly  father,  "  ask  and  it  shall  be 
given  unto  you,  seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock  and  it  shall 
be  opened  unto  you."  He  is  fond  of  home  !  I  trust  he 
may  be  kept  from  the  snares  of  the  wicked.  Messrs. 
Jones  &  Wilcox,  though  men  in  good  business,  have  little 
to  do  in  religious  affairs.  Miss  Harriet  Jones  and  Erastus 
Wilcox  are  members  of  our  church,  but  the  parents  of 
neither  family  are  pious,  and  Mr.  Wilcox  attends,  usually, 
the  Methodist  church.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  come  to  our 
meeting,  although  their  attendance  is  by  no  means  regular. 
Peter  Wilcox  is  a  noisy,  out-'o-nights,  sort  of  a  fellow,  and 
Hart  Jones  is  little  better.  They  are  both  quite  ignorant 
young  men,  and  in  school  were  often  severely  flogged  for 
their  ill  manners  and  bad  lessons.  They  go  with  compan 
ions  of  like  sentiment,  and  it  is  believed  they  belong  to  a 
gang  of  young  men  who  steal  and  gamble.  They  have  fre 
quently  been  seen  almost,  and  once  or  thrice  quite  intoxica 
ted,  and  their  parents,  it  is  said,  now  begin  to  wish  they 
had  been  more  strict  with  them  in  their  childhood.  Har 
riet  and  Erastus  feel  deeply  for  their  brothers,  and  I  hope 
that  their  counsels  and  prayers  may  yet  reach  their  hearts, 


PARISH-SIDE.  183 

and  cause  them  to  repent.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peters  have  but 
one  son,  and  he  is  a  merchant  in  New  York  city.  They 
have  four  daughters  who  arc  intelligent  and  beautiful  young 
ladies,  Esther,  Mary,  Henrietta,  Emma.  They  are  affable 
and  agreeable,  yet  have  about  them  a  little  something  airy, 
like  their  mother.  But  of  course  it  little  becomes  me  to 
speak  against  them  when  my  second  son  Robert  is  a  perse 
vering,  and  I  suppose,  an  accepted  suitor  for  the  hand  of 
Esther  !  Robert  is  the  great  "  business"  child  of  our 
family.  Although  still  a  young  man,  only  in  his  twenty- 
third  year,  he  has  already  gone  to  a  considerable  extent 
into  the  Lumber  trade,  and  to  my  astonishment,  during  the 
past  year,  as  he  tells  me,  has  actually  fulfilled  a  contract 
with  the  "  Government"  to  furnish  lumber  for  certain  works 
in  the  harbor  of  C ,  amounting  to  fifty  thousand  dol 
lars.  He  has  an  office  also  in  the  city,  and  assures  me  that 
in  ten  years  he  will  be  worth  half  a  million  of  dollars ! 
Poor  boy  !  is  he  mad  1  I  have  never  allowed  myself  any 
such  extravagant  notions.  Here,  contentedly,  on  a  little 
property,  I  have  lived  for  many  a  year,  seldom  going  from 
home  and  never  to  engage  in  the  speculations  of  the  world. 
Poor  Robert  is  already  over  head  and  ears  in  them.  I  con 
clude  that  he  will  either  "make  or  break,"  and  rather  fear 
he  will  go  so  rashly  and  deeply  into  these  transactions  that 
he  will  ruin  himself  and  all  the  rest  of  us  !  We  shall  see. 
My  oldest  son,  Archibald,  has  no  disposition  either  to  dissi 
pation  or  roving.  More  like  myself,  he  pursues  the  pcace- 
i'iil  way  of  life  we  follow  at  home,  though  he  is  of  great 


184  PARISH -SIDE. 

strength,  and  will  sometimes  arouse  himself  and  perform 
acts  of  business  that  prove  him  possessed  of  a  strong  and 
clear  mind. 

Elizabeth  Burgess  is  a  quiet  and  agreeable  young  lady, 
who,  though  plain  in  her  personal  appearance,  is  one  of  the 
most  sensible  and  pious  of  the  young  people.  She  is  al 
ways  engaged  in  religion,  her  mind  seemingly  taking  that 
direction,  while  it  is  true  of  a  great  many,  that  they  regard 
religion  with  aversion — the  practical  duties  of  it  as  offensive 
and  burdensome.  But  you  will  find  her  well  acquainted 
with  the  condition  of  all  the  sick  and  afflicted ;  all  the  poor ; 
all  that  have  not  proper  clothing  for  a  respectable  appear 
ance  at  church ;  all  they  who  are  pricked  in  heart,  and  who 
are  anxious  to  know  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved.  She 
is  a  great  help  to  the  pastor.  I  know  not  how  many  times 
she  has  either  in  person,  or  through  another,  informed  him 
of  the  temporal  or  spiritual  wants  of  some  of  her  peculiar 
proteges,  and  been  the  means  of  awakening  his  anxiety,  and 
of  securing  his  efforts  in  their  behalf!  She  has  an  easy  way 
when  "  in  company,"  even,  of  obtaining  his  ear,  and  of 
sliding  into  it  her  descriptions  of  the  sufferings,  or  the  pe 
culiar  state  of  this  one,  or  of  that.  Interesting  and  pious 
Elizabeth !  I  do  not  wonder  that  your  excellent  mind  and 
heart  should  have  won  the  regard  of  my  son  Archibald. 
Nor  do  I  wonder  less,  that  hitherto  such  an  exalted  charac 
ter  as  yours,  such  eminent  devotion  to  all  truth  and  duty, 
should  have  its  reasons  for  declining  matrimonial  ties.  *  *  *- 
Poor  Archibald ! 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  185 

Angelina  Hartwcll  is  a  great  favorite  with  us  all.  She  is 
especially  agreeable  to,  and  fond  of  the  "  old  folks,"  as  wo 
are  facetiously  termed  by  the  young.  A  preference,  by  the 
way,  that  many  of  her  own  age  have  often  wondered  at. 
She  is  a  young  lady  of  great  personal  attractions,  and  her 
piety  and  beauty  correspond  with  her  intelligent  nature,  to 
make  her  mature  in  character  and  judgment  above  many 
her  equals  in  age,  fortune,  and  privileges.  Evelina  Street  is 
much  like  her  in  many  respects.  They  have  been  greatly 
attached  to  each  other  since  their  fifteenth  year,  when  they 
wrere  rescued,  by  the  great  exertions  of  Henry  Arrs,  from  a 
watery  grave,  the  ice  in  the  river  on  which  they  and  several 
others  were  amusing  themselves,  having  unfortunately  given 
way. 

**»•*» 

Last  evening  a  large  and  interesting  group  of  our  young 
people,  and  a  good  company  of  "  the  elders  among  us,"  as 
sembled  at  Esquire  Peters's.  The  Ladies'  Society  had  been 
invited  to  meet  there,  and  Mrs.  Peters  had  sent  special  word 
to  all  the  members,  that  Mrs.  Williams,  who  had  not  met 
with  them  for  some  time,  would  be  present  in  the  evening. 
Mrs.  Peters  was  in  high  spirits  in  view  of  the  occasion. 
Her  rooms  were  handsomely  decorated  with  pictures,  and 
with  marble  busts  and  statues,  and  house  statuettes,  and  ex 
quisite  china  ornaments,  dogs,  and  fawns,  and  lions  in  repose 
or  rampant,  and  gold  and  silver-tipped  vases  of  the  rarest 
patterns.  Heavy-clasped,  and  gilt  bibles,  carelessly  re 
posed  on  the  same  rose-wood  table,  beneath  a  tall  and 


186  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

splendid  mirror,  with  Byron  in  gilt,  and  Shelly,  and  Cowper, 
and  Shakspeare,  and  Milton.  Eau  de  Cologne,  from  open- 
mouthed  bottles,  negligently  concealed  behind  some  bolder 
objects,  cast  a  pleasing  odor  through  her  parlors,  and  the 
new  burning  oil,  Q?  fluid,  just  introduced  among  us,  illumi 
nated  them,  in  my  conception,  almost  like  gas  itself. 

Mrs.  Peters  in  a  rich  and  heavily-flounced  black  silk 
dress,  moved  with  dignity,  ease,  and  grace,  through  her  own 
highly-wrought  tableaus,  and  with  all  that  refined  manner 
for  which  she  was  celebrated  among  us,  received  and  at 
tended  to,  her  friends,  and  guests. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  came  at  eight.  She  received 
Mrs.  Williams  at  the  threshold  of  her  best  parlor,  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  company,  and  pressed  her  gracefully  to  her 
heart. 

"  Oh  !"  said  she,  "  you  have  done  us  all,  and  me  especi 
ally,  an  extraordinary  honor  and  pleasure,  my  dear  lady, 
by  venturing  out  this  evening.  Be  seated  in  this  easy 
rocker — I  know  you  must  be  greatly  overcome  by  this  ex 
ertion  and  fatigue." 

Mrs.  Williams  assured  her  of  the  great  pleasure  she  en 
joyed  in  the  present  opportunity  to  see  her,  and  meet  the 
ladies  again,  and  said  that  she  hardly  knew  whether  she 
ought  to  occupy  the  easiest  seat  in  the  room,  or  to  offer 
it  to  her  poor  husband. 

"  Oh  !  my  dear  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Peters,  "  how  consider 
ate  !  True,  poor  sir !  how  pale  and  feeble  you  look. 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  187 

Esther,  dear,  bring  from  the  other  room  that  large  cush 
ioned  arm-chair  that  Mr.  Williams  loves  so  well. 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  upon  Mr.  Williams,  who  did 
indeed,  at  first,  look  pale  and  feeble,  but  immediately  red 
and  excited.  The  ladies  gently  forced  him  and  his  wife  into 
their  seats,  and  after  a  multitude  of  complimentary  saluta- 
tations,  and  congratulations,  and  sympathetic  ejaculations, 
the  conversation  went  on, — the  buzz,  the  laugh,  the  whisper, 
the  loud,  long  harrangue,  the  confidential  declaration,  the 
presentimental  wonder,  the  shrug,  the  cold  shoulder,  the 
compliment,  the  "  Oh !  dear," — went  on  as  before — as  ever 
go  on  these  in  the  promiscuous  assembly. 

Deacon  Hartwell  was  present,  and  sat  down  by  his  minis 
ter,  and  a  group  of  chatty  and  agreeable  ladies. 

"  And  how  is  our  poor  neighbor  Sweetser  to-day  ?"  in 
quired  he  of  Mr.  Williams. 

"  He  is  better,  sir,  I  think,  or  he  is,  certainly,  more  com 
fortable,  and  is  very  cheerful  under  his  misfortune." 

"  Poor,  suffering  gentleman  !"  said  the  exquisitely  sensi 
tive  Mrs.  Littleway. 

"  What  has  happened  f  inquired  two  or  three  at  the 
same  time. 

"  Why,"  said  the  deacon,  "  he  has  been  almost  killed. 
He  was  half  a  mile  from  home,  day  before  yesterday,  I 
think  it  was,  with  his  team,  and  they,  in  some  manner  took 
fright  when  he  was  near  them,  and  ran.  Before  he  could 
escape  or  stop  them,  they  threw  him  down  ;  and,  although 
his  neck  escaped,  his  limb  did  not,  for  the  wheel  ran  over 


188  PARISH-SIDE. 

it,  and  it  was  broken  in  two  places.     He  lies  now  oi\  lfc,s 
bed  with  a  splintered  limb,  at  least  for  six  weeks." 

"  Oh !  how  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Street. 

"  It  is  a  calamitous  providence !"  said  Mrs.  Littleway. 
"  Truly,"  said  she,  "  I  don't  feel  reconciled  to  it,  nor  do  I 
see  how  it  could  have  happened." 

"  Happened !"  exclaimed  the  deacon.  "  I  don't  see  how 
it  could  have  been  avoided.  And  as  for  it  being  '  a  calam 
itous  providence,  let  us  rather  say,  madam,  a  merciful  one." 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure.  It  is  *  merciful'  when  we  reflect  on 
what  might  have  been.  But,  sir,  I  never  feel  reconciled  to 
misfortunes." 

"  You  don't  have  strong  faith  enough  in  an  over-ruling 
providence. 

"  Oh !  yes,  sir,  and  there  is  my  difficulty.  I  can't  see 
why  an  over-ruling  providence  allows  his  own  children  so 
much  suffering." 

"  For  his  own  glory,  madam,  and  for  their  good — for 
their  discipline  and  preparation  for  the  future  world.  Shall 
the  poor,  sinful,  and  frail  child  of  earth,  live  here  all  his 
days  without  trial,  disappointment,  tribulation,  affliction  to 
humble  him  1  '  I  will  show  him,'  said  the  Lord  to  the 
prophet,  '  how  great  things  he  shall  SUFFER  for  my  name's 
sake.' 

"  Alas  !  Deacon  Hartwell,  I  fear  that  you  think  me  abso 
lutely  reprobate  as  to  the  faith,  but  I  am  not.  I  contend  for 
the  faith.  I  have  all  faith  ;  I  do  believe  every  word  you 
have  said.  I  am  good  orthodox — but  aLas  !  that  it  must  be 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  180 

so  with  us — alas  !  that  so  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Swectscr,  so 
exemplary  and  so  kind,  should  come  to  suffer  these  things. 
My  sympathies  raise  up  my  rebellion  against, — I  had  al 
most  said,  the  moral  government  of  God." 

"  Yes,  that's  it,  madam,  you  don't  want  to  suffer,  and  so 
you  say, '  why  is  there  suffering  V  You  might  as  well  com 
plain  of  your  mercies  as  of  your  chastisements." 

"  Oh,  no  Sir,  why  so  1 

"  Because  they  are  not  perfect.  Your  blessings  here  are 
as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  good  things  that  God  has 
prepared  for  them  that  love  him.  Your  blessings  only  give 
you  a  little  taste  of  good ;  so  your  afflictions  are  only  slight 
corrections,  they  might  be  a  thousand  fold  heavier." 

"  Well,  deacon,  I  never  before  got  such  a  view  of  mer 
cies.  I've  always  thought  that  comforts  and  mercies  were 
real,  positive  enjoyments,  and  I  have  regarded  misfortune 
as  something  that  was  supremely  arbitrary  and  unneces 
sary,  and  about  as  bad  as  it  could  be" 

"  No !  no  !"  said  the  deacon,  "  you  must  not  think  so." 

Said  Mr.  Williams,  "  Mr.  Sweetser  «  says  it  is  all  right.' " 

"  Ah !  he's  a  heavenly  saint !"  said  she. 

"  He  is  a  very  humble,  and  useful  Christian,"  said  Mr. 
Williams. 

"  Precisely,  Sir,  that's  my  opinion." 

"To  change  the  subject  a  little,"  said  Mrs.  Alexander,. 
';  will  you  please  to  inform  me,  Mr.  Williams,  who  the 
clergyman  was  that  sat  in  the  pulpit  with  you  last  Sab 
bath  r 


190  PARISH-SIDE. 

"  The  Rev.  Mr.  Tossings,  madam." 

"  Tossings  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Tossings !"  soliloquized  she,  "  Mrs.  Street.,  has  he  not 
been  here  and  preached  before  now  *?" 

"  I  do  not  recollect  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Williams,  "  he  preached  one  Sabbath 
before  I  came  here." 

"  Oh!  yes,  yes,"  said  she,  "I  thought  so,  I  recollect  him 
now.  Poor  creature!  and  where"  (the  company  smiled) 
"  where  is  he  now  settled  ?" 

"  He  has  no  settled  abode,  I  think,  madam." 

"  Why  r 

"  Yes,  he  even  told  me  that  he  had  not  received  a  call, 
though  he  had  preached  in  a  great  many  places,  for  five 
years  or  more." 

"  Then  I  think  there  must  be  something  defective  in  him, 

for  surely  the  church  in  R want  a  minister,  or  they 

would  not  disturb  us.  Why  don't  they  employ  a  man  like 
him  now,  who  wants  a  situation,  and  would  thank  them  for 
it  all  the  days  of  his  life  ?" 

Mr.  Williams  smiled  and  said,  "  we  can't  act  for  them." 

Said  the  deacon,  "  Tossings  1  I  know  him.  He  is  a  man 
of  considerable  talent,  a  great  reader,  a  correct  writer,  but 
a  poor  preacher,  and  he  has  but  little  of  that  practical  every 
day  good  sense,  that  a  minister  certainly  needs  if  any  body 
does." 

Now  came  up,  bowing  and  smiling,  Mrs.  Peters  accom- 


PARISH-SIDE.  191 

l>y  her  husband,  and  scat  ing  him  and  nerself  among 
the  company,  she  said,  "  It  is  so  pleasant  to  meet  all  our 
frit-lids  this  ovi-niiiir,  good  Mr.  ami  Mrs.  Williams,  precious 
one*,  and  \ou  aS*,"  addressing  him,  "so  miserable,  or  so 
«.-\tivmuly  pale  and  suffering,  and  my  dear  Mrs.  Williams, 
no  happy.  Is  it  not,  husband,  a  pleasant  occasion?  And 
then  here  is  our  excellent  Deacon  Hartwell.  Oh  !  I  con 
fess  myself  greatly  obliged  and  extremely  gratified.  Mary, 
my  dear,  come  and  lean  on  my  chair,  are  you  not  fa 
tigued  1" 

Esquire  Peters  regretted  that  "  business''1  had  kept  him 
away  from  his  friends  so  late.  "  But  it's  better  late  than 
never." 

"  Oh !  dear,  yes,"  said  his  wife.  "  We  are  all  gratified  to 
see  you  even  at  the  close  of  the  evening.  And  Deacon 
Hartwell,  are  we  going  to  have  the  railroad,  and  the  whis 
tling  cars  through  our  village,  or  not  1" 

"  I  can't  say,  madam." 

"  I  learn,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  this  evening,  that  the  decis 
ion  is  against  us,  and  that  the  track  will  be  laid  through  the 
4  Hollow.' " 

"  It  can't  be  !  it  must  not  be  !"  said  a  dozen  voices. 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  said  the  deacon,  "  our  society  will 
dwindle,  I  fear." 

"  But  they  never  can  be  anything  over  in  the  Hollow  !" 
said  Mrs.  Littleway,  with  a  severe  lip.  "  What  can  a  so 
ciety  of  such  materials  ever  grow  into  ?  Besides,  that  they 
should  injure  the  old  society  is  simply  preposterous.  Only 


192  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

last  week  three  very  respectable  and  pious  families  moved 
into  our  village,  and  I  understand  that  several  new  houses 
are  soon  to  be  erected." 

"  This  is  true,"  said  Esquire  Peters.  "  I  don't  see  any  ne 
cessity  for  the  old  society  going  down,  but  when  a  new  vil 
lage  starts  up  so  near  to  the  old  one  with  the  advantage 
of  water  power,  and  a  railroad,  it  gains  very  fast  on  the 
old  one." 

"  We  expect  to  part  with  about  twenty  persons  from 
our  church  to  form  the  new  one  in  the  Hollow,"  said  the 
pastor. 

"  Twenty !"  said  Mrs.  Littleway,  dropping  her  hands  into 
her  lap,  "  twenty  1  and  who — is  it  possible — who  can  they 
be?" 

Mr.  Williams  assured  her  they  were  respectable  breth 
ren  and  sisters  in  the  church,  and  among  others,  "  Deacon 
Jeremiah  Armstrong  of  that  part  of  the  town." 

"  Deacon  Armstrong,  too !  is  he,  my  dear  sir,  among  the 
conspirators  against  our  peace  ?" 

Mrs.  Williams  was  walking  through  the  rooms  arm  in 
arm  with  Angeline  Hartwell,  when  a  tall  and  gentlemanly 
young  man,  with  black  hair,  and  whiskers  neatly  trimmed, 
and  a  rich,  attractive  countenance,  met  them.  Mary  Peters 
was  leaning  on  his  arm.  The  gentleman  bowed,  smiled, 
and  passed  on. 

"  Indeed,  Angeline,"  said  Mrs.  Williams,  "  one  cannot 
but  admire  Mr.  Arrs^  he  is  a  great  addition  to  the  young 
society  of  Edgefield." 


PARISH -SIDE.  193 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  she  replied. 

"  He  has  a  very  polite  and  gentlemanly  way  with  him." 

"  Certainly  he  has,  ma'am." 

"  Has  he  improved  a  good  deal  by  his  voyage  and  jour 
ney  abroad." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  And  do  all  the  young  ladies  of  the  village  admire 
him,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am — all  but — one." 

"  One  !  and,  my  dear,  who  may  she  be,  all  but  one  ?" 

"  A  silly,  or  a  sensible  girl,  ma'am." 

"  I  am  sure,  Angeline,  it  is  you  !  why  1  never  knew  you 
to  '  ma'am'  me  so  before  in  my  life." 

"  Me !  ma'am — I  mean,  ma'am — " 

"  Oh !  do  not,  my  dear,  confuse  yourself." 

"  Certainly  not,  ma'am.  But  of  course — I — admire  him. 
I  have  these  five  years  past." 

"What!  so  long?" 

"  Yes,  ever  since  he  saved  me  from  the  water." 

"  Oh !  yes,  I  had  forgotten  that  circumstance.  And  pray 
tell  me  now  whom  he  admires." 

"Ma'am?" 

"  Who  does  Mr.  Arrs  seem  to  admire  ?" 

"He,  ma'am?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear." 

"  He  seems  to — admire — them  all — but— one." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  who  that  individual  person  might  be," 

said  she,  looking  straight  and  fixedly  upon  her  young  friend, 

9 


194  PARISH -SIDE. 

who  turned  her  gaze  upon  the  floor  to  avoid  it.  "  All  but 
*  one,'  and  that '  one'  is" — 

"  Is  '  one,' "  she  quickly  answered,  "  who  will  tell  you  all, 
hereafter." 

So  saying,  she  slipped  from  her  side  into  the  midst  of  a 
circle  of  herN  young  friends,  and  Mrs.  Williams  joined  her 

husband. 

****** 

A  minister's  position  is  rather  a  delicate  one,  after  all.  I 
am  afraid  that  Mr.  Williams  will  feel  it  to  be  his  duty  to 
preach  against  worldliness  and  fashion,  and  extravagant  en 
tertainments.  There  has  been  more  than  usual  visiting  and 
pleasure-seeking  of  late  among  us.  Should  he  do  so,  he  will 
be  sure  to  make  enemies  of  a  good  many,  and  it  would  be 
very  bad  to  offend,  among  others,  Esquire  Peters. 

John  Smith  says  that  it  is  a  great  fault,  "  now  a  days," 
ministers  are  guilty  of,  that  "  they  are  too  easy  with  the 
great." 

By  the  way,  John,  in  anticipation  of  the  growth  of  the 
"  Hollow"  society,  and  the  decrease  of  ours,  has  given  out, 
that  if  the  railroad  goes  there,  he  will.  We  may  now  ex 
pect  to  lose  him. 


CHAPTLK   XXIX. 

/ 

TEMPERANCE — FAULT     FINDERS. 

NOVEMBER  7th. — It  is  now  officially  made  known,  that  the 
railroad  track  will  be  laid  through  the  "  Hollow !"  We 
have  lost  it.  There  is  great  rejoicing  over  there,  and  bad 
feeling — some  discouragement — here.  The  deacon  looks 
grave,  the  minister  perplexed,  the  doctor  is  incommunica 
tive,  the  lawyer  talks  of  an  "  INJUNCTION."  John  Smith  has 
gone  to  the  Hollow  with  his  lap-stone  and  work-bench ! 
Colonel  Arrs  says  we  mustn't  contend  with  what's  ap 
pointed,  that  the  best  way  is  to  make  the  most  of  it,  and  as 
for  himself,  he  shall  open  a  "  Branch"  store  in  the  Hollow 
in  the  spring,  and  if  there  is  any  trade  there,  why  he  "  will 

have  a  share  of  it." 

****** 

The  railroad,  it  is  said,  will  come  within  five  rods  of 
Mr.  Iluram's  factory,  and  the  station  will  be  just  half  a 
mile  from  our  meeting  house.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  near 
enough ! 

****** 

December  Wth. — I  do  not  know  what  we  shall  come  to, 


196 


PARIS  II -SIDE. 


unless  something  is  done  to  settle  the  temperance  question. 
There  are,  in  our  church,  some  who  are  not  strictly  abste 
mious  ;  there  are  several  such  in  the  society.  Last  Sabbath 
Mr.  Williams  highly  offended  them  by  the  stand  he  took  in 
favor  of  teetotalism.  He  said  that  as  the  manufacture,  sale, 
and  use  of  ardent  spirits  were  sinful,  so  must  it  be  to  furnish 
the  means  of  making,  drinking,  or  vending  :  as,  for  example, 
to  rent  a  building  for  that  avowed  or  known  purpose. 
There  are  some  among  us  who  pass  for  good  temperance 
men,  who  do,  notwithstanding,  rent  their  buildings  for  this 
use.  They  see  he  is  right,  but  they  don't  wish  to  own  it, 
because,  then,  they  lose  in  character  unless  they  cease  this 
practice.  Now,  you  may  have  noticed  that  men  are  gener 
ally  very  sensitive  about  their  apparent  character,  while  their 
real  character  seems  to  give  them  little  uneasiness.  Mr. 
Morgan  having  framed  my  barn  a  little  "  out  of  true,"  as 
the  joiners  say,  which  my  eye,  and  his,  detected,  endeavored, 
by  several  ingenious  sophisms,  to  convince  me,  and  to  con 
vince  himself,  that  it  was  entirely  plumb  !  Old  Richards, 
the  gunsmith,  once  being  with  us  when  Mr.  Morgan  alluded 
to  it,  and  was  sure  it  stood  bolt  upright,  said  to  him,  "  Well, 
Mr.  Morgan,  what's  the  use  ;  you  know,  and  /  know,  and  he 
knows  the  barn  leans.  Now,  what's  the  use  of  making  be 
lieve  it's  right,  when  in  r'ality  it's  wrong  ?"  So  it  is  with 
these  men,  I  fear  ;  they  say  they  wish  well  to  the  cause  of 
temperance.  This  is  their  apparent  character.  But  they 
lease  grounds  and  buildings  to  persons  who  make  no  secret 
of  manufacturing  or  selling  intoxicating  drinks.  That  is 


PARISH-SIDE.  197 

their  real  character.  Now  they  feel  very  much  hurt  when 
told  that  their  works  prove  them  insincere,  or  self-deceived. 
They  labor  to  convince  you  that  they  are  really  and  truly 
correct,  while  they  themselves  see,  and  everybody  else  sees, 
that  they  are  wrong. 

Says  Mr.  Williams,  "  If  I  have  a  fine  store  to  lease,  and 
let  it  to  a  rum-seller  in  preference  to  a  temperance  mer 
chant,  because  he  will  give  me  twenty-five  dollars  more  for 
the  rent  of  it,  than  the  other,  my  regard  for  temperance  is  to 
be  measured  by  my  regard  for  dollars  and  cents,  not  by  the 
higher  sentiment  of  morality,  much  less  by  that  of  re 
ligion." 

This  has  offended  some.  They  say,  he  shall  take  that 
back,  or  we  will  go  to  the  new  church  in  the  "Hollow  /"  So 
everything  ends  in  the  "Hollow"  THE  "  HOLLOW  !"  I  trust 
that  Mr.  Williams  will  have  wisdom  given  to  him,  and  firm 
ness.  It  is  a  great  evil  that  rum  should  influence  so  ex 
tensively  the  men  of  the  world.  God  grant  that  it  may 
not  rule  the  church  and  the  pulpit. 

He  also  said  that  moderate  drinkers  were,  perhaps,  more 
guilty  of  perpetuating  the  sin  of  intemperance,  and,  indeed, 
of  leading  the  innocent  into  it,  than  the  habitual  drunkards 
themselves.  Says  he, 

"  Who  that  sees  a  drunkard  reeling,  with  oaths,  and  an 
insulting  and  foolish  air,  along  the  streets,  will  plunge  at 
once  into  the  depths  of  inebriation  1  But  if  Mr.  A.,  or  Mr. 
B.,  with  a  fair  character,  and  a  dashing,  clever,  gentlemanly 
and  generous  manner,  says  to  a  friend,  'Drink  with  me  a 


198  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

social  glass,  sir  V  how  many  there  are  who  will  yield,  and 
thus  begin  a  career  of  sin,  which,  under  the  other  influence, 
would,  probably,  have  been  unthought  of!" 

The  moderate  drinkers  among  us,  I  find,  dislike,  exceed 
ingly,  these  views  of  the  subject,  and  they  greatly  prefer 
that  Mr.  Williams  would  not  lose  his  popularity  in  the  Par 
ish  by  exhibiting  them. 

I  do  not  think  that  Mr.  Williams  need  fear  the  opposition 
that  these  views  on  the  subject  have  called  out,  for  he  has 
the  truth  on  his  side,  and  a  large  majority  of  the  Parish 
may  be  relied  on  to  sustain  him.  But  I  well  know  that 
some  ministers  have  found  themselves  in  difficulty,  precisely 

from  this  cause. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

We  are  not  in  a  state  of  rest.  What  one  man  likes, 
another  frequently  dislikes.  It  is  a  source  of  real  pleasure, 
not  to  say  pride,  to  many,  to  most  of  us,  that  Mr.  Wil 
liams  enjoys,  in  a  great  degree,  the  favor  and  confidence  of 
his  brother  ministers.  So  much  so,  that  he  is  gone  from  us 
very  frequently  on  the  Sabbath  on  exchanges,  often  with 
ministers  "  well  known  to  fame,"  or  with  his  brethren  in  the 
neighboring  parishes.  As  his  judgment  is  very  good  for  so 
young  a  minister,  he  is  often  called  to  attend  the  "  councils" 
of  his  brethren  here  and  there  in  the  churches.  He  is  also 
a  frequent  attendant  at  ministers  social  meetings,  and  asso 
ciations.  He  attends  the  meeting  of  the  Consociation  when 
ever  it  occurs.  Besides  these,  he  is  frequently  called  away 
to  preach  a  sermon  at  an  ordination,  or  installation  of  a 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  199 

minister.  He  is  a  popular  public  lecturer  also,  and  is  fre 
quently  engaged  to  speak  on  topics  not  strictly  religious, 
before  assemblies  in  many  of  our  best  towns  and  cities. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Manners  find  great  occasion  to  speak 
against  him  for  these  things. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  she  to  me,  "  he  is  gone  at  least  one 
half  the  time !" 

"  Oh !  no,  madam,"  I  replied,  "  he  is  frequently  absent,  I 
grant,  but  he  does  not  stay  away  long  at  a  time,  and  he 
seems  to  me  to  be  among  us  every  day  in  the  year." 

"  How  it  may  seem  to  you  on  the  public  street,  I  don't 
know,  but  he  is  so  seldom  seen  in  our  neighborhood  that  I 
imagine  he  has  lost  his  way  whenever  I  do  see  him  ;  and  as 
for  the  Sabbath,  he  has  been  absent  during  this  month  two 
in  four." 

"  True,  he  has  ;  but  this  was  something  a  little  rare  even 
for  him." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Manners,  with  an  ominous 
shake  of  the  head,  "  he  is  gone  a  great  many  Sabbaths/' 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,  consider  that  he  may  be  doing  good 
to  others  if  he  is.  You  do  not  suppose  that  he  is  playing 
idle,  all  this  time." 

"  No,  not  that  I  'spose,  though  he  undoubtedly  saves  a 
good  many  sermons  by  it." 

"  Fie !  fie !  Mr.  Manners,  you  do  not  allow  yourself  a 
prejudice  of  this  nature,  I  hope." 

"  Oh !  no  sir,  no,  it  is  only  a  simple  fact  in  the  case, 


200  PARISH-SIDE. 

right  enough,  I  'spose.  But  we  don't  hire  him  to  preach  to 
others.  We  want  him  ourselves." 

"  True  as  the  gospel,"  said  his  spouse.  "  What  do  we 
want  to  have  our  minister  preaching  on  the  Sunday  over  at 
West  Edgefield  (!)  for  ?  They  are  but  a  handful  of  people, 
and  can't  understand  him  ;  and  I  am  sure  I  can't  their  min 
ister.  What  do  we  want  old  Doctor  Eaveswell  in  our  pul 
pit  for,  with  his  sermons  fifty  years  old,  and  two  hours 
long  1  I  think  Mr.  Williams'  duty  is  to  stay  at  home." 

"  He  is  often  feeble,  and  it  is  then  a  relief,  an  unspeak 
able  one,  to  exchange." 

"  When  the  man  is  sick,  he  had  better  be  at  home  than 
away,"  said  Mr.  Manners. 

"  Perhaps,  sir,  he  is  well  on  the  Sabbath,  but  has  been 
too  feeble  to  write  his  sermons  through  the  week." 

"  That's  something  like  a  doctor  having  more  riding  and 
business  on  Sunday  than  on  other  days,"  said  she. 

"  I  cannot  think,"  said  I,  "  that  our  Pastor  is  an  idle  man, 
or  a  deceiver." 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  "  but  would  it  not  be  for  the  good  of 
our  society,  and  tend  to  keep  us  together,  if  he  were  more 
at  home — as  a  general  thing  ?" 

"  I  can't  say,  I  think  it  would,  nor  will  I  admit  that  he  is 
gone  more  frequently  than  he  ought  to  be." 

"  Well,  others  think  differently  about  it  as  well  as  we." 

"  I  don't  think  there  are  five  persons  in  the  Parish  that 
care  one  sixpence  about  it,"  said  I,  with  a  little  heat. 

«_John  Smith—" 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  201 

"  John  Smith  is  not  worth  minding,  and  you  know  it ; 
besides,  he  has  packed  himself  off.  What  have  we  to  do 
with  him,  or  he  with  us  V 

"  Well,  the  '  Hollow'  people  say  he  is  dissatisfied,  and  is 
preparing  to  leave  us." 

"  If  he  is  dissatisfied,"  said  Mrs.  Manners,  "  why  not  go 
away  at  once,  and  not  take  underhanded  means  about  it  ?" 

"  I  declare,"  said  I,  "  you  have  got  yourselves  into  a  sin 
gular  state  of  mind.  It  now  seems  that  you  are  bitterly 
opposed  to  his  absence  a  single  Sabbath,  or  week-day." 

"  — No,  no,  to  so  many  Sabbaths  and  other  times — " 

"  It  matters  not ;  you  magnify  his  absences  till  they 
amount,  in  your  view,  to  an  offence  against  his  own  society ; 
you  overlook  the  comity  of  ministerial  fellowship,  the  ne 
cessity  also  of  councils,  the  desirableness  of  lectures  ;  the 
gifts  of  our  pastor  in  the  public  estimation.  It  is  no  satis 
faction  to  you  that  he  is  helpful  to  somebody  else,  and  that 
he  can  do  good  as  well  as  get  good,  by  occasionally  going 
abroad — " 

"  — Not '  occasionally,'  but  so  much — " 

"  — By  going  abroad,  and  you  listen  to  what  the  opposing 
society  in  the  '  Hollow'  have  to  say,  which  is  rank  infidelity 
to  your  own  society,  and  you  have  allowed  this  prejudice  so 
to  blind  your  minds,  and  sour  your  hearts,  that  you  sus 
pect  him  of  a  design  to  leave  us,  and  advise  him,  if  he  is 
dissatisfied,  to  go.  Now  look  at  it.  You  don't  care  wheth 
er  he  goes  or  stays ;  you  have  taken  up  a  prejudice,  and  feed 
on  it  night  and  day.  Were  you  to  talk  with  everybody  as 

9* 


202  PARISH-SIDE. 

you  have  with  me,  you  would  cause  a  great  many  improper 
feelings  against  him,  and  awaken  a  storm  without  his  know 
ing  it.  Now,  my  advice  to  you  is  to  go  and  see  him,  and 
tell  him,  just  as  you  have  me,  what  you  think  of  him." 

"  Oh !  no  sir ;  not  for  the  world !  do  you  think,"  said 
she,  "  that  I  don't  love  my  minister  ?  Why,  sir,  I  think  he 
is  a  perfect  paragon  of  a  minister,  and  wouldn't  exchange 
him  for  his  weight  in  gold.  /  hav'nt  a  bit  of  prejudice." 

"  It's  only"  said  he,  "  this  one  LITTLE  MATTER  of  being 
gone  too  much  /" 

"  Oh !  you  self-deceived  and  foolish  ones,"  said  I,  "  if  you 
don't  stop,  right  where  you  are,  and  say  no  more  about 
this,  you  may  be  guilty  of  poisoning  the  peace  of  the  man 
you  pretend  to  love  so  much,  and  of  stirring  up  a  Parish 
fever  that  you  can  never  allay." 

They  both  entreated  me  to  hold,  and  promised  they 
would  say  no  more  about  it. 

After  they  were  gone,  I  felt  ready  to  fall  down  on  my 
knees  and  thank  God,  that  by  his  good  providence  they  had 
been  directed  to  me,  rather  than  to  many  I  could  think  of, 
and  especially  that  in  their  zeal  they  had  not  gone  and  com 
plained  to  the  Pastor !  What  bigotry  !  what  selfishness  ! 
what  contracted  ideas  did  they  evince  in  their  interview 
with  me  on  this  point  ?  It  is  true  that  I  generally  prefer 
to  hear  my  own  Pastor  preach  ;  but  I  am  by  no  means  in- 
disposed  to  hear  others.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  cultivate  an  ac 
quaintance  with  the  ministers  around  us,  and  to  listen  to 
their  views  of  gospel  truth.  And  I  know  that  our  Pastor 


PARISH-SIDE.  203 

needs  this  relief,  and  that  it  has  a  positive  influence  to  en 
large  his  own  views  of  truth,  to  relax  a  little  from  time  to 
time  in  his  studies.  Some  ministers  may  think  that  they 
can  stay  at  home  *  year  in  and  year  out'  without  once  ex 
changing  ;  nay,  that  they  can  write  two  fresh  and  rich  ser 
mons  every  week,  without  any  weakness  or  failure  in  the 
thought  or  argument, — their  people,  however,  know  they 
cannot. 

There  are  a  great  many  remarks  made  about  ministers 
that  I  sincerely  rejoice  they  do  not  hear,  because  it  is  often 
true,  that  they  who  make  them  do  not  really  entertain  the 
opinions  their  words  seem  to  express. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

MARRIAGES — TROUBLES     IN     THE     TOWN. 

JANUARY  4th. — How  many  beautiful  surprises  meet  us  in 
this  world  from  day  to  day.  When  the  contemplated  mar 
riage  of  Henry  Arrs  and  Angelina  Hartwell  was  announced 
last  Sabbath  from  the  pulpit,  it  was  the  first  intelligence  I 
had  ever  received  of  an  engagement  between  them.  Now 
it  comes  out,  that  they  have  been  actually  engaged,  or  as 
good  as  engaged,  for  more  than  two  years !  I  was,  of 
course,  prepared  to  hear  the  publishment  of  my  own  son 
Robert,  and  Miss  Esther  Peters,  but  the  other  took  me  en 
tirely  by  surprise. 

What  a  gala  holiday  have  these  two  marriages  given  to 
our  village  !  That  no  one  might  complain  of  being  left  out 
of  the  number  invited  to  the  wedding,  both  of  the  marriages 
were  solemnized  at  the  church  on  the  morning  of  New 
Year's  day.  And  oh !  what  a  crowd  of  persons,  old  and 
young,  were  there. 

Mr.  Williams  was  very  short  in  the  exercises,  much  to 
the  relief  of  the  parties,  I  am  told,  though  some  of  the  old 
people  thought  he  might  as  well  have  taken  more  time,  and 
have  given  them  some  good  advice. 


P  A  R  I  S  H  -  8  I  D  E .  205 

"  Pshaw  !"  said  Mr.  Williams,  "  they  don't  want  any  ad 
vice — they  want  to  be  married." 

"  Throughout  the  day  and  evening,  there  were  a  great 
many  calls  upon  them,  at  the  houses  of  both  the  brides' 
parents,  and  most  splendid  entertainments  were  prepared, 
and  freely  dispensed  among  all  the  gay  and  cheerful 
visitants. 

Robert  continues  to  drive  on  his  business  in  the  city,  and 
is  making  heavier  contracts  every  day.  As  yet,  he  seems 
to  be  prospered.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  give  him  some  ad 
vice,  however,  and  to  warn  him  against  a  dark  day.  He 
thanked  me  for  my  counsels  and  admonitions,  and  said  that 
my  interest  in  his  welfare  was  never  forgotten,  how  much- 
soever  immersed  in  speculations  he  might  be.  He  assured 
me  that  his  affairs  were  moving  on  well,  and  that  he  ex 
pected  to  get  rich  very  soon. 

"  Yes,  father,"  says  he,  "  put  me  down  for  half  a  million 
of  dollars  in  ten  or  fifteen  years." 

"  Oh  !  Robert,  Robert !"  said  I,  "  how  blithely  you  talk  of 

MILLIONS  !" 

"  Well,  father,"  said  he,  "  what's  a  million  now  a  days  ? 
Once,  a  millionaire  was  a  great  man  in  the  world.  Now-a- 
days  he's  but  a  matter  of  course  !" 

"  Oh,  my  son,  my  son,  how  rash  you  are — how  giddy 
with  the  thoughts  of  a  MILLION  !" 

"  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  father.  Why  look  here.  I  care  no  more 
about  it,  than  you  do  about  your  corn  yield — not  a  whit. 
But  it  seems  to  be  my  nature,  or  good  hit,  or  providence, 


206  PARISH-SIDE. 

or  something  else,  to  go  into  the  business  largely,  so  I  just 
let  fortune  lead  on  and  I  follow.  Father,  father  !  don't  be 
worried,  ha !  ha !  Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  sleep  as  soundly 
now  as  I  ever  slept  when  a  boy." 

He  is  an  affectionate  and  engaging  child.  I  hope  that  he 
will  not  be  called  to  pass  through  the  deep  waters  of  trial 
and  disappointment. 

Henry  Arrs  is  expected  to  take  charge  of  the  new  store 
in  the  Hollow.  Whether  he  will  reside  there  or  in  the  vil 
lage,  I  do  not  at  present  know. 

****** 

April. — The  spring  has  come.  May  is  just  at  hand. 
One  can  but  rejoice  to  welcome  it.  The  past  winter  has 
been  rather  severe,  but  is  already  nearly  forgotten  in  the 
bright  glories  of  April.  What  a  wonderful  transformation 
has  taken  place  already  at  the  Hollow.  I  have  been  there 
to-day.  Three  new  church  edifices  are  now  in  the  process 
of  erection  there,  four  or  five  new  stores,  railroad  house 
and  station,  and  they  say  at  least  thirty  dwelling  houses. 
The  contractors  for  the  railroad  are  there  at  work  with 
fifty  men.  The  teams  drawing  sand  and  stones  are  all  in 
motion.  Everybody  is  hard  at  work,  and  every  voice  is 
keyed  up  to  the  highest  point.  The  rattling  machinery,  the 
noise  of  escaping  steam,  the  ringing  of  factory  bells,  the 
rushing  here  and  there  of  the  busy  citizens,  cause  one  un 
feigned  feeling  and  expressions  of  wonder.  They  contrast 
singularly  enough  with  the  quiet,  staid,  unalterable  order  of 
things  in  our  village.  It  really  seems  that  they  have  now 


PARISH-SIDE.  207 

the  start  of  us,  that  we  shall  soon  see  them  in  the  front  rank 
of  influence  in  this  vicinity  of  towns !  How  strange  is  this ! 
Ten  years  ago,  the  whole  of  that  valley  could  have  been 
purchased  for  five  dollars  an  acre,  and  now,  you  can  hardly 
buy  a  foot  for  five  dollars  !  We  begin,  in  the  village,  to 
apprehend  that  our  YOUNG  PEOPLE  will  leave  us,  and  be 
drawn  by  the  promises  of  business  and  money-making,  into 
the  society  at  the  Hollow.  Such  has  been  the  case  in  many 
other  communities,  and  the  comparative  silence,  the  quiet, 
the  dulness,  that  reigns  in  our  own  beautiful  and  still- 
prominent  village,  gives  us  some  intimation  of  what  we 
may  expect.  We  have  parted  with  twenty  of  our  brethren 
to  help  form  the  new  church  in  the  Hollow.  This  we  have 
long  expected.  We  have  separated,  for  the  most  part,  in 
kindness  to  each  other. 

In  common  with  our  pastor,  the  church  and  society  have 
been  much  distressed  the  past  winter  and  spring,  by  the 
starting  up  among  us  of  an  organized  band  of  GOME-OUTERS. 
There  are  six  or  seven  families  that  have  been,  the  whole 
winter  long,  a  source  of  constant  annoyance  to  us.  Mr. 
Williams  has  seen  them,  committee  after  committee  visited 
them,  and  endeavored  to  reason  with  them,  but  they  would 
not  listen.  They  charge  us  with  being  a  pro-slavery  church, 
and  the  American  Board,  which  we  help  sustain,  a  pro- 
slavery  corporation.  They  claim  the  right  to  go  out  of  the 
church  without  leave  or  license,  because,  as  we  fellowship 
with  SIN,  they  are  not  "  holden  to  us."  They  wish  us  to 
"  declare  off"  from  the  Board,  and  give  our  contributions 


208  PARISH -SIDE. 

elsewhere ;  and  separate  from  all  the  neighboring  churches 
that  will  not  forthwith,  by  a  special  act,  renounce  fellowship 
with  the  slaveholding  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church.  They  say  we  must  have  no  fellowship,  express  or 
implied,  with  ministers  or  lay  members  of  the  slaveholding 
churches.  We  do  not  see  any  necessity  for  all  this  bluster. 
There  are  no  slaveholders  among  us.  We  fear  not  the  ar 
rival  of  any.  We  have  confidence  in  the  American  Board, 
that  it  will  do  all  in  its  power  to  establish  pure  gospel  mis 
sions,  and  to  correct  all  wrong  in  the  mission  churches  at 
the  earliest  practicable  moment.  We  have  asked  them, 
and  entreated  them  to  be  calm,  and  to  continue  in  fellow 
ship  with  us.  They  have,  on  the  contrary,  deliberately  re 
nounced  us,  at  las^  as  heretical.  They  have  declared  us 
little  better  than  a  slaveholding  church,  and  our  minister  as 
under  the  influence  of  the  slaveocracy  at  the  south.  They 
say,  that  while  we  do  not  repent,  they  can  neither  commune 
with  us,  nor  take  our  letters  of  recommendation  ;  that  the 
least  they  can  do  is  to  shake  off  the  dust  of  their  feet,  and 
go  from  us.  Accordingly,  they  have  sent  in  a  long  paper  of 
accusations,  and  resolutions,  in  which,  as  though  acting  in 
accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the  Lord,  they  formally  con 
sign  us  over  to  the  powers  of  evil,  and  declare  themselves 
forever  absolved  from  all  obligations  to  walk  with  us  in 
the  faith  and  order  of  the  gospel ! 

Poor  and  deluded  bretnren  !  Where  will  they  go  ;  what 
church  in  fellowship  with  us,  can  receive  them  in  good  faith, 
what  will  become  of  them  if  they  remain  out  of  the  fold ! 


PARISH -SIDE.  209 

This  matter  has  distressed  us  beyond  measure.  It  has 
been  one  of  the  items  of  attention  all  through  the  winter 
and  spring.  That  it  will  weaken  our  society  somewhat,  we 
do  not  doubt,  for  among  the  disaffected,  are  one  or  two 
families  of  influence  and  wealth. 

****** 

We  are  distressed  at  the  failure  of  Marcus  Street  &  Son ! 
They  have  met,  it  is  said,  with  some  heavy  losses  abroad, 
and  have  been  compelled  to  make  an  assignment  !  This  is 
a  heavy  blow  to  our  village,  a  deplorable  event  so  far  as  the 
society  is  concerned.  We  hope,  however,  they  will  not  be 
compelled  to  wind  up,  although  it  is  said  they  have  been 
obliged  to  discharge  forty  of  their  hands  !  These  men  will 
find  employment,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  Hollow  ! 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  feel  deeply  for  these  friends. 
Between  Mrs.  Street  and  Mrs.  Williams  there  has  ever  ex 
isted  a  cordiality  resembling  that  of  sisters.  Their  tastes 
were  similar,  their  reading,  their  intelligence,  their  good  na 
ture,  their  activity  much  the  same,  or  so  much  as  to  endear 
them  greatly  to  one  another.  Mr.  Street  has  been  as  much 
relied  on  in  our  society  to  keep  everything  straight,  as  Dea 
con  Hartwell  himself. 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that  our  society  is  much  weaker 
now  than  it  was  even  one  year  ago.  Still  we  do  not  de 
spair  of  it.  We  may  not  occupy  the  same  position  of  ease, 
opulence,  and  influence  as  formerly,  but  I  trust  we  shall  not 
at  once  lose  everything. 

Mr.  Williams  has  a  cough  this  spring,  and  looks  feeble. 
We  have  earnestly  entreated  him  to  spare  himself. 


CHAPTEE   XXXI. 

SCANDALOUS   PROCEEDINGS   AT   THE  HOLLOW — DEBT — MR.   WILLIAMS 

OTHER    CLERGYMEN APPEAL. 

WE  have  supposed  that  our  neighbors  of  the  Hollow, 
and  our  brethren  of  the  new  church  there,  pleased  with 
their  own  prosperity,  and  strong  in  numbers  and  wealth, 
would  be  willing  that  we,  who  seem  destined  to  enjoy  less 
of  what  they  so  much  boast,  should  be  allowed  to  possess 
in  peace  our  own.  But  we  had  reckoned  on  this  without 
sufficient  grounds.  They  seem  indisposed  to  lose  any  ad 
vantage  which  they  have  gained,  and  the  selfish  principle, 
even  though  they  are  on  the  rising  tide  of  fortune,  is  plain 
ly  at  work  among  them,  to  secure  their  own  ends. 

It  is  but  a  short  time  ago  that  the  new  church  in  that 
place  was  organized.  Yet  such  is  the  vigor  of  the  new 
body,  such  the  confidence  of  all  the  society,  that  we  see 
them  erecting  a  large  and  convenient  church  edifice,  and 
procuring  the  ablest  divines  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  that 
can  be  found  unemployed.  But  what  I  feel  particularly 
called  on  to  notice  and  to  rebuke,  is  an  attempt  on  their 
part  to  call  our  minister  away  from  us  !  They  know  that 


PARISH-SIDE.  211 

we  are  deeply  interested  in  him ;  that  we  have  nursed  him 
as  a  child  beloved ;  that  we  have  followed  him  as  a  spiritual 
guide  ;  that  we  have  defended  him  when  in  trouble  or  dan 
ger  ;  that  we  have  need  of  him  as  our  shepherd ;  that  we 
have  not  neglected  and  cast  him  off  in  his  affliction,  but  sup 
ported,  cheered  and  honored  him.  They  know  our  trials 
before  of  this  nature,  and  how  bitterly  we  resented  the  en 
deavor  of  the  church  in  R to  rob  us  of  a  pastor  be 
loved.  They  are  not  compelled  to  do  this,  because  there 
are  no  good  ministers  who  are  unemployed  and  wish  for  a 
settlement ;  they  have  the  stated  ordinances  of  the  gospel 
administered  to  them  every  Sabbath,  but  notwithstanding, 
they  have  had  the  effrontery  to  appoint  a  committee  consist 
ing  of  old  Mr.  Hurams,  Deacon  J.  Armstrong  and  Esquire 
Stratton,  the  Representative,  to  invite  Mr.  Williams  to  take 
the  charge  of  their  church  and  society.  I  mention  this  with 
out  heat.  1  write  it  down  calmly,  because  it  is  too  bare 
faced  and  unjust  to  succeed  ;  and  further,  it  is  such  a  betray 
al  of  childish  vanity,  that  I  will  not  suffer  it  to  move  me. 
I  know,  however,  that  many  of  our  society  have  resented  it, 
and  that  it  has  already  alienated  a  good  many  who  were  be 
fore  the  best  of  friends.  I  know  of  nothing  more  directly 
calculated  to  wound  the  feelings  and  call  out  resentment 
than  such  a  course  of  proceeding.  There  is  nothing  very 
reprehensible  in  a  society  or  church  expressing  its  approba 
tion  of  a  talented  and  useful  minister  of  another  society. 
I  know  not  that  it  should  be  censured  as  a  violation  of  good 
fellowship  and  faith  even  to  appoint  a  committee  to  inquire 


212  PARISH-SIDE. 

if  an  existing  relation  between  a  pastor  and  people  contin 
ued  to  be  an  object  of  desire,  or  if  it  may  not  be  dissolved. 
But  the  case  is  altered  when  a  church  and  society  secretly 
pass  a  vote  to  call  a  minister  from  his  people  without  con 
sulting  other  interests  than  their  own,  and  make  every  ef 
fort  in  their  power  to  carry  it.  The  people  in  the  Hollow 
did  this.  They  offered  to  give  Mr.  Williams  eight  hundred 
dollars  a  year  and  his  rent,  besides  three  months'  absence 
immediately  to  recover  his  strength.  We  considered  it  a 
mean  and  base  attempt  to  build  themselves  up  at  our  ex 
pense,  and  left  them  to  do  as  they  could.  Mr.  Williams 
saw  through  the  scheme  very  quickly.  We  were  not  disap 
pointed  in  the  course  which  he  pursued.  He  very  kindly, 
though  decidedly,  refused  their  offers.  He  thought  it 
strange,  and  we  did,  that  they  should  think  of  his  accept 
ance  of  the  offer  in  his  present  state  of  health.  Some  have 
said  that  they  meant  by  it  to  add  insult  to  sufferings,  but 
of  this  I  acquit  them. 

*  *  *  *  *  # 

We  find  ourselves  this  spring  eight  hundred  dollars  in 
debt !  We  have  made,  during  the  last  few  years,  the  great 
est  exertions  to  overcome  embarrassments  and  to  put  our 
ecclesiastical  matters  on  a  good  footing,  but  the  loss  of  our 
church,  the  many  expenses  of  that  period,  raising  of  sala 
ries,  the  failure  of  a  prominent  man,  and  the  rivalry  of  the 
Hollow,  have  thrown  us  in  arrears.  It  is  an  unfortunate 
thing  for  us,  and  it  happens  when  our  minister  is  feeble,  and 
the  other  clergymen  of  the  place  are  strong.  I  confess  that 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  .          213 

I  do  not  look  on  the  future  with  as  bright  hopes  as  formerly. 
The  young  men  of  the  place  all  leave  us  for  the  manufactur 
ing  villages,  and  for  the  cities.  We  have  not  now  that  ele 
ment  of  prosperity  among  us.  The  church  is  losing  ground 
in  point  of  numbers,  the  society  in  wealth.  Still  we  are 
not  broken  up.  I  trust  we  shall  not  be.  But  how  can  we 
pay  the  debt  ? 

May  25th. — Mr.  Williams  does  not  preach.  He  is  fear 
ful  that  his  health  is  permanently  injured.  His  society 
manifest  the  deepest  concern  in  his  behalf.  They  have  im 
plored  him  to  spare  himself,  and  to  go  anywhere,  to  do 
anything  for  a  time,  to  contribute  to  his  relief.  He  is 
greatly  touched  by  their  kindness  and  ardent  affection.  Es 
pecially  by  an  offer  on  the  part  of  the  society  to  release 
him  from  his  duties  to  the  Parish  for  six  months,  and  still . 
to  pay  him  his  salary.  He  feels  this  the  more  because  he 
sees  that  our  circumstances  are  somewhat  embarrassed. 

Mr.  Williams  owes  no  small  share  of  his  popularity  and 
usefulness  among  us  to  his  strong  practical  good  sense. 
His  views-  of  things  correspond  with  life  as  it  is,  and  while 
he  sees  in  society  much  to  deplore,  and  much  calculated  to 
excite  the  mind,  and  to  try  the  patience,  he  is  not  blinded 
to  the  good  that  really  exists,  nor  discouraged  at  events  that 
cast  a  dark  shadow  around  them.  He  has  not  asked  a  dis 
mission  because  the  church  piety  was  at  a  low  ebb,  and 
this  and  that  man  in  the  society  may  have  been  at  variance, 
or  because  Mr.  Such-an-onc  complained  that  he  held  too 


214  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

strenuously  to  election,  or  human  depravity.  He  has  not 
presented  request  on  request  for  the  raising  of  his  salary, 
although  it  has  never  been  a  large  one.  He  has  not 
made  his  own  life  bitter  by  imaginings  of  evil  to  come,  and 
regrets  that  providence  should  have  placed  him  in  this  com 
paratively  small  Parish  when  his  talents  might  have  com 
manded  one  of  the  first  in  the  country.  I  do  not  recollect 
that  he  has  ever  asked  for  more  salary,  or  preached  about 
his  debts,  or  expressed  a  desire  to  leave  us.  He  has  doubt 
less  thought  of  his  salary,  thought  of  his  debts,  thought  of 
other  societies,  thought  of  his  trials,  otherwise  we  should 
suppose  him  wanting  in  human  sensibilities.  But  he  has 
had  the  patience,  confidence,  and  practical  good  sense  to  keep 
these  thoughts  to  himself,  and  to  avoid  disturbing  and  dis 
couraging  the  hearts  of  the  people  by  their  earnest  and  re- 
.  peated  presentation. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Carlile  of  Justingsville  parish,  seems  to 
think  or  care  very  little  for  anything  but  his  salary.  He 
frequently  informs  his  people  that  it  is  too  small  for  his 
comfort,  and  altogether  inadequate  to  enable  him  to  pay  his 
debts  ;  that  he  deems  it  a  sacred  duty  to  accept  of  the  first 
invitation  that  he  may  receive  from  a  rich  society,  no  mat 
ter  what  it  is,  or  where  it  may  be,  that  will  secure  him  bet 
ter  pay.  He  is  generally  looking  on  the  dark  side  of 
things,  and  says  that  he  shall  soon  die  unless  his  circum 
stances  are  easier,  and  that  his  wife  and  children  will  be  left 
penniless  in  the  world.  *  *  *  I  can  see  no  good  to 
come  from  this. 


PARISH-SIDE.  215 

There  are  a  good  many  ministers  who  seem  to  regard 
the  salary  of  a  given  parish  the  sine  qua  nou  to  their  settle 
ment  in  it.  A  united  vote  of  the  parish  to  call  them,  a 
people  needing  their  services  and  willing  to  make  great 
sacrifices  to  secure  them,  are  not  the  motive  power.  "  No, 
the  salary  is  too  small !"  "  We  can't  live  on  it !"  (that  is, 
"  wre  can't  live  as  we  have  thought  of  living,  and  deter 
mined  to  live.") 

In  beautiful  contrast  with  this,  let  me  mention  the  course 

of  the  Rev.  Mr. ,  to  which  my  attention  was  recently 

called  by  an  article  in  the  newspaper.  He,  it  seems,  re 
ceived  simultaneously  a  call  from  the  rich  church  in , 

with  the  offer  of  twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year  salary,  and 

one  from  the  poor  church  in  C ,  with  the  salary  of  four 

hundred  dollars  a  year.  He  accepted  the  latter,  saying, 
"  the  rich  church  will  probably  find  itself  a  more  willing 
pastor  than  the  poor  one."  Such  a  principle  and  course  of 
conduct  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  everywere  inculcates. 
The  blessings  of  heaven  fall  richly  on  him  who  takes  the 
oversight  of  God's  poor  people  "  not  for  filthy  lucre,  but  of 
a  ready  mind." 

****** 

Still,  brothers  of  the  church,  and  parishes  of  our  land  of 
Sabbath  sanctuaries  and  Bibles,  let  us  do  all  that  lies  in  our 
power  to  support  those  wrho  labor  among  us  in  the  work  of 
the  gospel,  ever  holding  it  true  that  they  who  preach  the 
gospel  should  live  of  the  gospel.  Let  it  not  be  said  of  us 
at  the  last,  that  we  were  wanting  in  kindness  and  every 


216  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

duty  to  those  who  for  Christ's  sake  denied  themselves  to 
break  unto  us  the  bread  of  life.  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  ME."  It  will  be  far  better  in  the  day  of  just 
reckoning  before  God,  to  have  had  no  gospel,  than  to  have 
appropriated  it  to  ourselves  below  its  value,  that  we  might, 
though  unjust  to  others,  be  the  more  indulgent  to  our 
selves  * 


CHAPTEK    XXXII. 

JOURNAL     CONTINUED — PASTOR   FEEBLE — DEACON   GONE! 

JUNE. — The  contractors  for  this  section  of  the  railroaa 
have  failed  !  They  have  absconded,  leaving  several  thou 
sands  of  dollars  due  to  workmen,  merchants  and  others. 
The  men  on  the  road  have  had  a  great  gathering  and  a  riot, 
in  which  they  were  with  difficulty  restrained  from  burning 
up  the  works  of  the  company.  An  adjustment  of  their 
claims  is  promised  them,  and  they  will,  after  that,  again 
commence  work. 

We  are  glad,  under  these  circumstances,  to  be  a  little  re 
moved  from  the  scene.     Our  quiet  village  seems  a  paradise 
to  the  bedlam  uproar  of  the  Hollow ! 
.  Mr.  Williams  is  a  little  easier  as  to  his  health,  but  is  not 
able  to  preach.     The  society  feel  deeply  for  him,  and  near 
ly  every  day  some  one  calls  and  rides  out  with  him. 
*  *  *  *  *  * 

June  15lh. — The  bolts  of  heaven  fly  as  they  are  or 
dained.  When  God  with  rebukes  doth  chasten  man  for  his 
folly,  his  glory,  etc. 

We  now  feel  our  Aveakness,  our  dependence,  our  great 
10 


218  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

and  irremediable  loss.  Deacon  Hartwell  is  no  more  !  He 
expired  last  evening  after  a  sickness  of  only  two  days. 
Something  resembling  a  paralytic  shock  deprived  him  of 
strength  early  in  the  evening  when  attacked,  and  he  was 
found  on  the  floor  in  a  deplorable  state  of  insensibility,  by 
his  family.  It  was  at  first  thought  he  would  immediately 
expire,  but  he  did  not,  and  in  the  morning  his  recollection 
returned  and  he  was  able  to  speak  to  his  friends.  He  as 
sured  them  that  his  hour  had  come,  and  that  he  felt  no  re 
luctance  to  meet  it.  He  had  for  years  trusted  all  to  the 
blood  of  his  Saviour,  and  felt  entirely  resigned  to  the  will 
of  God.  He  commended  his  afflicted  wife  to  the  care  of 
her  Redeemer,  and  bade  his  family  be  kind  to  her  as  long 
as  she  lived.  He  had  made  such  a  disposition  of  his  prop 
erty  as  would  secure  it  to  his  family  and  the  church  of 
Christ,  so  that  his  mind  was  easy  on  that  point.  He  af 
fectionately  bade  Jonas  go  on  in  the  good  work  of  studying 
for  the  gospel  ministry,  and  commended  him,  in  one  of  his 
warmest  prayers,  to  the  mercy  of  God.  Angeline  was 
present,  and  received  his  dying  affectionate  farewell.  He 
called  her  " his  angel"  Wilder  was  sensibly  affected,  and 
could  hardly  endure  the  scene.  Mr.  Williams  continued  by 
him  night  and  day,  as  he  had  strength,  till  his  spirit  depart 
ed,  and  had  the  joy  of  hearing  him  say  repeatedly,  ';  My 
dear,  and  beloved  Pastor,  I  hope  to  meet  you  in  the  future 
world.  You  have  been  a  great  comfort  to  me  in  this. 
The  Lord  reward  you ;  he  will.  Preach  the  word — be  in- 


PARISH-SIDE.  219 

stant  in  season — out  of  season, — reprove,  rebuke,  exhort 
with  all  long-suffering  and  doctrine." 

He  finally  sank  away  in  a  state  of  insensibility  to  pain, 
although  not  wholly  forgetful  of  his  condition,  and  breath 
ing  a  faint  prayer,  "  come  Lord  Jesus — "  left  this  world  for 
a  better. 

We  knew  not  how  to  spare  him — and  yet  we  cannot,  we 
would  not  recall  him  to  the  earth.  He  has  been  indeed  a 
pillar  in  this  church  of  Christ.  A  strong  and  a  good  man  in 
Israel  has  fallen.  Deacon  Hartwell  had  his  faults ;  he  had 
his  enemies.  But  faults  are  forgotten  in  the  memory  of  his 
virtues,  and  enmities  perish  in  the  day  of  death.  I  know 
that  God  can  sustain  his  own  cause,  even  making  the  weak 
ness  of  man  to  manifest  his  own  great  power  whenever  it 
best  suits  him.  But  we  have  so  long  relied  on  the  deacon 
for  advice,  and  pecuniary  assistance,  that  we  now  feel  our 
helplessness.  It  is  true  we  have  recently  had  an  addition 
of  ten  or  twelve  persons  to  our  society,  and  among  them 
there  are  one  or  two  active  young  men  of  piety  and  intelli 
gence.  But  what  one  man,  or  ten  men,  can  make  good  to 
us  our  loss  in  the  departure  of  Deacon  Hartwell  ? 

Mr.  Williams,  I  know,  will  feel  this  loss  in  a  most  sensi 
ble  manner.  Deacon  Hartwell  was,  in  truth,  his  right  hand 
man,  and  ever  ready  to  help,  and  to  advise,  and  to  encour 
age  him.  Almost  every  week  they  have  met  and  prayed 
together,  or  conversed  on  the  state  of  the  church  and  society, 
and  formed  together,  and  executed  their  plans  for  the  pro 
motion  of  religion  among  us.  He  has  been  so  familiar 


220  PARISH -SIDE. 

with  no  one  else  in  the  church  or  society.  He  will  mourn 
for  him  as  one  mourneth  for  a  father. 

The  church  and  society  are  deeply  moved  at  the  intelli 
gence  of  their  loss.  A  very  great  funeral  of  true  "mourners 
will  gather  together  around  his  grave. 

Many  fears  are  expressed  for  Mrs.  Hartwell,  lest  she 
should  soon  follow  him  to  the  grave.  It  is,  indeed,  as  the 
breaking  of  the  staff  on  which  she  has  leaned  for  nearly  fifty 
years,  4nd  she  must  feel  her  weakness  and  desolate  con 
dition  May  the  Lord  comfort  and  support  her. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

TRIAL  S — S  UPPOET     OF     PASTORS. 

WHY  is  it  that  these  trials  are  appointed  unto  us,  unless 
it  be  for  our  good  1  Certainly  they  are  not  needed  to  se 
cure  in  us  a  greater  love  of  the  world,  and  devotion  to  the 
things  that  perish  with  the  using ;  they  have  neither  this 
tendency  nor  effect,  but  they  lead  us  to  reflection,  to  peni 
tence,  to  a  newness  of  life,  in  earnest  endeavors  after  new 
obedience  to  God.  Many,  many  have  been  the  trials  of  our 
society  during  the  last  twenty  years.  I  look  back  upon 
them,  and  my  heart  aches  over  the  scenes  that  meet  my  at 
tention.  We  have  labored  to  build  up  Zion.  We  have  de 
nied  ourselves  ease,  and  time,  and  money.  We  have 
worked,  as  it  were,  day  and  night,  to  carry  forward  the 
Parish,  and  to  make  our  valley  vocal  with  the  praises  of 
our  God.  And  yet  we  have  been  constantly  tried— daily 
and  hourly  visited  from  on  high.  I  would  not  complain.  I 
but  speak  of  the  past  to  humble  me  more,  and  to  show 
forth  the  blessing  and  sustaining  hand  of  God  among  his 
people.  But,  surely,  I  may  remember  all  the  way  of  travail 
by  which  we  have  come  up  to  this  present  hour.  We  have 


222  PARISH-SIDE. 

borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  many  a  day,  and  have  felt, 
many  a  time,  the  iron  of  disappointment  go  down  into  the 
soul.  There  are,  it  may  be,  those  who  think  we  have,  as  a 
Parish,  no  burdens  or  distracting  cares,  and  that  all  the 
anxiety  and  burden  of  the  society  and  church  rest  on  our 
beloved  pastor  and  his  estimable  lady.  I  know  that  they 
sorrow  deeply  over  the  declension  of  religion  among  us,  and 
that  they  have  their  trials,  and  hours  of  despondency  over 
this  and  that  report,  or  occurrence.  But  the  pastor  who  has 
an  affectionate  people  around  him,  is  daily  enjoying  the  sup 
port  of  an  hundred  family  altars,  and  closets.  He  has  a 
home  in  every  house  of  his  Parish,  a  people  glad  to  hear  the 
Word  from  his  lips,  jealous  of  his  good  name,  and  ready  at 
any  moment  to  vindicate  his  character  if  aspersed.  Are  his 
family  ill,  how  many  little  attentions,  from  this  one  and 
that,  are  immediately  tendered.  Can  any  one  do  some 
thing  to  relieve  him,  it  is  accomplished  without  money,  and 
without  price.  Does  he  need  time  to  pay  that  which  he 
owes,  no  man  enjoys  a  better  credit,  no  man  is  more  kindly 
waited  on.  Where  is  the  citizen,  be  he  the  judge,  the 
lordly  rich,  the  eminent  statesman,  even  be  he  the  President 
himself,  who  is  more  deferentially  regarded,  more  cour 
teously  treated  ?  Where  is  the  man  whose  official  duty  is 
more  influential,  who  accomplishes  more  for  his  species  1 
There  are  peculiar  trials.  There  are  disheartening  circum 
stances  often.  But  there  are  redeeming  mercies  and  fea 
tures.  I  am  one  who  cannot  regard  the  ministry  other  than 
with  the  highest  respect.  At  the  same  time  I  do  not  join 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  223 

loudly  in  the  cry  against  the  Christian  congregations  and 
Parishes  of  our  country,  accusing  them  of  ingratitude,  and 
coldness,  and  selfishness,  and  a  want  of  regard  and  ieding 
for  their  pastors.  I  would  not  for  a,  moment  defend  the 
single  Parish  guilty  of  these  charges,  and  I  would  not  ac 
cept  the  wholesale  accusations  against  them,  that  perhaps 
for  plunder,  or  out  of  some  personal  revenge,  it  has  occa 
sionally  pleased  some  to  utter  to  the  world.  So  far  as  my 
knowledge  goes,  especially  here  in  New  England,  and 
among  all  orders  of  Christians,  the  ministry  has  been  highly 
honored  and  faithfully  supported.  I  will  not  say  that  in 
every  instance  the  salary  of  ministers  has  been  sufficiently 
large  to  meet  the  necessary  charges  of  life,  but  that,  usually, 
a  large  and  equitable  compensation  has  been  allowed  them  ; 
and,  in  many  instances,  as  fast  as  circumstances  made  it 
necessary  and  possible  to  the  people,  the  salary  has  been 
cheerfully  increased.  And  yet  there  has  been,  I  know,  oc 
casionally  much  suffering.  This  is  imdenied,  and  unde 
niable.  But  suffering  in  this  best  and  holiest  of  all  labors, 
must  be  expected — the  sufferings  also,  complained  of!  Is  it 
ours  to  say  what,  and  how  great  sufferings  wre  will  bear  for 
Christ,  and  the  good  of  souls ?  Shall  we  make  it  an  insur 
mountable  hinderance  to  our  usefulness,  that  A,  B,  and  C, 
in  our  Parishes,  refuse  to  pay  us  for  our  labors ;  or  that 
they  speak  reproachfully,  and  wound  our  sensitiveness.  But 
Paul,  in  preaching  the  same  gospel,  was  often  placed  in 
peril  of  liberty  and  life.  He  was  beaten  with  rods.  He 
was  confined  in  dungeons.  He  was  cruelly  devoured  by 


224  IRIS  II- SIDE. 

wild  beasts  in  the  Amphitheatre  at  Rome.  OUR  LORD  had 
not  where  to  lay  his  head !  Shall  the  servant  be  greater 
than  his  Master  1  Are  his  disciples  to  complain,  and  to 
make  the  question  all  Important,  what  shall  I  eat,  or  what 
shall  I  drink,  and  wherewithal  shall  I  be  clothed  ? 

Our  own  affluent  and  numerous  society  has  seen  the  day 
of  small  things.  The  time  has  been,  in  our  past  history, 
when  we  paid  but  thirty  pounds  a  year  for  the  preaching  of 
the  gospel.  Nay,  when  we  were  glad  to  hear  a  sermon 
once  in  three  Sabbaths.  Those  were  days  when  the  ser 
vant  of  God,  as  he  went  from  one  settlement  to  another, 
passed  often  through  an  ambuscade  of  Indians,  and  not  un- 
frequently  was  slain.  In  those  days,  the  people  took  their 
arms  with  them  to  the  house  of  God,  and  part  of  the  con 
gregation  kept  watch,  as  the  other  part  engaged  in  worship. 
Men  tilling  the  earth  were  as  targets  for  the  arrows  and 
bullets  of  the  wily  savage.  Still  the  word  of  God  was  not 
bound,  nor  was  the  seed  of  the  gospel  withheld,  and  in  due 
time  that  which  "  was  sown  in  weakness,  was  raised  in 
power." 

In  all  new  settlements  there  must  be  more  or  less  suffer 
ing,  more  or  less  deprivation  of  comforts  and  conveniences. 
And  so  in  many  of  the  old  and  dull  towns,  where  there  is 
little  business,  thrift,  or  life,  the  people  will  be  somewhat 
dilatory  in  paying  their  pastors,  and  unwilling  to  increase  a 
salary  which  they  already  reckon  too  great  for  their  means. 
They  will,  many  of  them,  be  to  their  pastor  what  they  are 
to  themselves,  and  to  one  another,  cold  and  unsocial.  If  he 


PARISH -SIDE.  225 

remains  among  them,  it  must  be  his  effort  to  arouse  their 
better  natures,  and  awaken  in  them  some  degree  of  self- 
respect  and  confidence,  stimulating  them  to  activity,  rather 
than  allowing  their  backwardness,  and  by  his  complainings 
affording  them  new  cause  for  despondency,  envy,  and  even 
irritation. 

Many  a  pastor  finds  it  difficult  to  support  himself  and 
family  on  a  salary  of  four  hundred  or  five  hundred  dollars  a 
year.  An  equal  number  find  it  difficult  to  support  them 
selves  on  six  hundred  or  seven  hundred  a  year,  and  still  a 
large  number  on  eight  and  nine  hundred — and  so  we  may 

go  on  to  fifteen  hundred.  The  Rev.  Mr.  M removed 

from  a  large  and  flourishing  society  in  the  country,  where 
he  received  a  salary  of  eight  hundred  dollars  a  year,  to  one 
of  our  large  cities,  where  he  was  paid  fifteen  hundred.  It 
cost  him  out  of  this,  for  his  house  rent  alone,  six  hundred 
dollars,  and  the  house  he  occupied  was  not  one  of  the  best 
or  most  desirable  at  that.  How  much  better  off  in  respect 
of  funds  was  he  now,  with  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  than  be 
fore  with  eight  ? 

If  the  gospel  is  to  be  preached  in  the  new  settlements,  in 
the  back  towns,  in  the  old  and  dull  Parishes,  ministers 
must  not  expect  to  receive  large  salaries,  as  a  general  thing. 
They  must  strive  to  bring  their  expenditures  within  a 
smaller  compass  than  their  own  desires  had  suggested,  and 
if  driven  to  it,  they  must  be  content,  as  was  Paul,  that  their 
own  hands  should  minister  to  their  necessities.  With  strict 

economy,  care  and  attention,  and  an  humble,  habitual  de- 

10* 


226  PARISH -SIDE. 

pendence  on  God,  most  of  our  country  pastors  will  find 
themselves  comfortable  in  their  Parishes,  supported  in  their 
trials,  useful  to  the  church  of  Christ,  and  the  souls  of  dying 
men,  and  becoming  daily  more  and  more  ready  to  leave  the 
earth,  for  the  bliss  and  glory  of  heaven. 

Moreover,  the  small-salaried  ministers  have,  as  a  general 
rule,  little  work  to  do,  compared  with  what  their  brethren, 
with  larger  salaries,  are  called  to.  A  large  church  and  so 
ciety  of  six  or  eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  souls,  needs  a 
good  deal  of  oversight,  unremitting  daily,  hourly  attention. 
Some  of  our  city  pastors  have  a  funeral  to  attend — almost 
every  day, — certainly,  on  an  average  every  week.  A  large 
number  of  their  society  is  all  the  while  on  the  sick  list ;  and 
they  are  subject  to  interminable  calls  and  interruptions  dur 
ing  the  week.  I  have  known  one  talented  Doctor  of  Divin 
ity,  whose  sermons  were  frequently  written  in  the  night, 
after  the  city  had  gone  to  rest !  And  frequently  both  of 
them  Saturday  night ! 

The  obligation  increases  with  privilege.  If  it  is  a  privi 
lege  to  live  in  a  large  town  or  city,  then  pay  for  it  in  hard 
work !  If  it  is  a  privilege  to  be  a  Doctor  of  Divinity,  pay 
for  it  by  great  efforts  !  If  it  is  a  privilege  to  be  a  GREAT 
man  anywhere,  the  privilege  and  the  cost  go  together.  If 
you  have  received  much,  of  YOU  much  will  be  required. 

The  plain,  and  simple-hearted  minister  of  Uplandville, 
lying  north  of  this  place,  Mr.  Scott,  called  on  me  the  other 
day.  He  expressed  a  great  thankfulness  to  God  for  per 
mitting  him  to  live  all  his  days  in  so  quiet  a  village  as  Up- 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  227 

•landville,  among  a  pious,  temperate,  industrious  people,  who 
were  all  within  two  miles  of  each  other,  and  who,  appar 
ently,  were  as  cordial  in  their  feelings  towards  him  then,  as 
they  had  been  at  any  previous  time  of  his  settlement 
among  them.  lie  said  that  he  was  not  conscious  of  having 
ever  desired  to  leave  them.  He  loved  the  very  rocks  and 
streams  of  the  town  ;  the  forests  were  frequently  trodden 
by  him  in  paths  that  were  as  familiar  as  his  own  garden 
walks.  He  knew  everybody's  house  as  far  as  he  could  see 
it.  He  could  tell  a  stranger's  equipage  from  that  of  any 
of  the  town's  people,  though  he  saw  it  from  the  brow  of  a 
hill  a  long  distance  off.  He  was  perfectly  familiar  with 
everxy  countenance  in  his  Parish.  Every  child's  name  he 
Knew.  The  wagons  and  carriages,  horses,  and  even  ox 
teams,  he  knew  them  all.  Everything  was  familiar  to  him, 
beloved  by  him,  and  he  had  no  desire,  although  his  salary 
was  but  four  hundred  dollars  a  year,  to  change  the  place  of 
his  residence.  From  the  cares,  the  labors,  and  responsibil 
ities  of  large,  overgrown,  and  especially  city  churches,  his 
whole  nature  shrank  with  trembling.  He  said,  that  small 
as  his  Parish  was,  he  often  thought  it  was  as  large  as  he  was 
prepared  to  render  an  account  of  to  the  JUDGE  ! 

On  the  contrary,  the  Rev.  Rodolphus  Kechall,  of  Ham,  a 
town  out  west  of  us,  recently  assured  me,  that  his  life  was 
made  unhappy  because  he  had  never  received  a  call  to  a 
larger  church  and  society  than  that  of  Ham.  He  com 
plained  bitterly  against  the  allotment  of  Providence  in  his 
case,  and  said  that  he  had  been  waiting  anxiously  for  more 


228  PARISH-SIDE. 

than  five  years  for  an  invitation  to  a  larger  society,  where 
his  talents  might  be  brought  out.  He  considered  himself 
able  to  edify  any  congregation  in  the  country,  and  would 
not  object  to  a  responsible  position  in  the  city.  He  "  per 
fectly  envied  city  ministers,"  and  said  that  it  had  been  the 
hope  of  his  life  so  far,  to  have  the  charge  of  a  city  pulpit 
before  he  died. 

"  As  yet,  however,"  said  he,  "  it  looks  dark ;  I  have  never 
received  the  first  call  to  another  place.  I  am  at  Ham,  and 
'  Ham's  minister  I'm  like  to  be." 

I  suggested,  in  order  to  tranquillize  him,  and  afford  him 
still  new  ground  of  hope  in  such  an  unpleasant  condition, 
that  it  might  be  there  were  many  churches  that  would  most 
gladly  avail  themselves  of  his  talents  and  labors,  if  they 
were  once  acquainted  with  his  desire  to  make  an  exchange 
of  place — that,  perhaps,  the  vacant  churches  around  sup 
posed  him  too  useful  and  necessary  to  Ham,  to  even  think 
of  interrupting  the  connection. 

But  he  assured  me  that  this  could  not  be,  "  for,"  said  he, 
"  on  all  convenient  occasions,  as  now,  I  have  freely  con 
versed  with  gentlemen  of  other  towns,  and  given  them  a 
full  and  faithful  description  of  my  feelings.  Moreover,  I 
have  not  written  my  sermons  for  Ham,  but  for  larger  and 
more  intelligent  audiences,  and  I  deliver  them  on  the  Sab 
bath  as  if  I  were  speaking  to  a  congregation  of  a  thousand 
souls.  I  expect,  you  see,  to  have  occasion  to  use  my  talents 
in  an  appropriate  sphere  by-and-by.  And,  besides,  I  ex 
change  as  often  as  I  can  with  ministers  who  preach  in  large 


PARISH- SIDE.  229 

houses,  to  accustom  myself  to  the  circumstances  I  am  look 
ing  for." 

I  ventured  to  inquire,  if  his  labors  seemed  "  to  be  blest 
among  the  people  of  Ham  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  blessed,"  said  he,  "  and  yet  the  people 
have  a  great  idea  of  me." 

It  occurred  to  me  to  advise  him  to  labor  for  his  own  peo 
ple.  I  hinted  this  to  him  in  the  kindest  manner,  for  he  is  a 
man  that  cannot  bear  contradiction.  I  even  said  in  his  hear 
ing,  "  He  that  is  faithful  over  a  few  things,  I  will  make  him 
ruler  over  many." 

He  replied  that  the  people  of  Ham  were  satisfied  with 
what  he  did  for  them,  and  frequently  remarked,  that  if  they 
did  "  as  well  as  he  preached,  they  should  come  off  well  at 
last." 

I  hinted  at  humility,  but  he  declared  that  he  had  been 
aumble  long  enough  already,  and  that  he  now  intended  to 
lold  up  his  head,  and  push  for  his  ideal. 


CHAPTEE   XXXIY. 

HOW    THE     SALARY     MAY     BE    RAISED — MR.     BROWN. 

THIS  morning  I  called  at  Esquire  Peters's  office,  and  sat 
an  hour  or  two  with  him,  engaged  in  profitable  conversa 
tion.  He  is  of  the  opinion  that  our  society  will  revive 
from  its  present  depression  after  a  time,  and  that  the  village 
will  always  enjoy  the  favorable  attention  of  gentlemen  who 
wish  for  quiet  and  beautiful  residences.  Moreover  he  says, 
that  if  we  desire  it,  we  can  easily  connect  the  village  with 
the  railroad  by  a  branch  section.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  it  is  my 
opinion  that  the  railroad  is  near  enough  to  us.  Let  us  wait 
patiently  for  a  time,  and  see  how  affairs  will  then  appear." 

I  answered  that  the  railroad  mania  had  ceased  much  to 
affect  me,  as  I  was  confident  the  two  villages  would  soon 
connect  with  each  other,  and  that  the  central  part  of  the 
business  would  be  found  ultimately  near  the  upper  station, 
and  consequently  as  near  to  us  as  them.  "  At  present," 
said  I,  "  we  have  the  numbers  and  means  sufficient  to  the 
support  of  the  society.  My  anxiety  is  chiefly  concerning 
the  health  of  the  Pastor." 

"  True,  that  is  a  grave  matter.     I  fear  that  his  constitu- 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  231 

tion,  never  the  most  robust,  is  too  much  broken  to  allow 
the  hope  of  long  enjoying  his  services." 

"  He  is  evidently  suffering  by  his  continued  efforts  in  the 
pulpit.  Do  you  not  think  that  we  should  converse  with 
him  directly  on  the  point  of  suspending  his  labors." 

"He  must  be  advised  and  assisted.  In  my  judgment, 
he  ought  to  go  this  spring  to  Europe,  and  try  the  benefit 
of  the  voyage,  and  the  scenes  of  the  old  countries." 

"  That  is  precisely  my  own  opinion,  sir,  and  I  find  it  is 
beginning  to  be  talked  of  among  our  ladies,  and  by  the 
young  people  of  the  parish." 

«  Ah  r 

"  Yes,  and  Doctor  Alexander  shakes  his  head  over  him." 

"  Well,  I  think  we  must  put  this  thing  along ;  the  fact  is, 
that  Mr.  Williams  ought  not  to  preach  again  for  a  year. 
If  he  stops  now,  and  takes  this  voyage,  it  may  reinstate 
him  in  health,  as  we  have  seen  that  it  did  in  the  case  of 
Henry  Arrs,  and  so  our  Parish  yet  may  enjoy  for  a  reason 
able  period  his  labors." 

I  fully  approved  of  this,  and  we  determined  that  the 
thing  should  have  an  immediate  attention. 

While  we  were  thus  engaged,  who  should  happen  in  but 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Brown,  the  worthy  and  beloved  minister  of 
Hunting.  Mr.  Brown  is  beloved  for  his  kind,  amiable  and 
excellent  character.  He  is  a  man  of  sterling  worth,  being 
a  good  and  faithful  Christian  minister,  a  ripe  scholar,  a  per 
fect  gentleman.  His  dress  is  after  the  perfect  model  of  his 
profession,  and  exceedingly  tasteful  and  becoming.  His 


232  PARISH-SIDE. 

white  cravat  is  adjusted  with  care,  and  confined  with  a  per 
fect  knot  in  front.  His  hat  is  always  neatly  brushed  ;  his 
coat,  vest  and  pants,  seem  as  though  fresh  from  his  bureau ; 
his  boots  are  polished  like  mirrors,  his  gloves  are  handsome 
kid,  and  his  staff  is  tipped  with  silver.  Yet  is  there  no 
thing  extravagant  in  this,  or  expensive  beyond  what  others 
allow  themselves  with  vastly  less  good  taste  and  arrange 
ment.  You  never  look  at  him  to  remark  the  costliness  of 
his  dress,  but  to  experience  a  pleasure  at  the  extremely  neat 
and  appropriate  style  of  his  attire.  Seen  anywhere,  as  well 
by  his  external  appearance  as  by  his  deportment,  he  is  al 
ways  known  as  a  clergyman ;  and  thus  to  be  known,  he 
seems  to  suppose  is  neither  honor  nor  disgrace,  but  merely 
a  propriety. 

Yet  Mr.  Brown  has  an  occasional  fit  of  despondency, 
arising,  as  I  think,  from  a  nice  sense  of  honor  in  regard  to 
all  his  engagements.  And  when  he  came  into  the  office  this 
morning,  it  was  evident  that  he  was  suffering  somewhat 
from  an  attack  of  his  old  enemy.  When  the  customary 
salutations  were  gone  over,  and  some  few  remarks  on  other 
subjects  offered,  he  turned  to  Esquire  Peters  and  said,  "  If 
it  would  not  be  troubling  you  too  much,  I  should  like  to 
advise  with  you  a  little  in  respect  to  my  own  private  af 
fairs." 

"  I  am  quite  at  leisure,  sir,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "  and  I 
am  happy  that  I  can  devote  the  hour  to  your  society  and 
conversation." 

When  I  arose  to  leave,  Mr.  Brown  would  by  no  means 


PARIS  II -SIDE. 

consent  to  it,  and  assured  me  that  my  presence  would  be  a 
relief  instead  of  any  embarrassment ;  so  I  remained. 

Said  he,  "  I  find  myself  in  something  of  a  dilemma,  and 
can  hardly  deliver  myself  from  it.  I  am  embarrassed  with 
some  debts  in  Hunting  in  consequence  of  the  small  salary 
that  I  receive,  yet  am  attached  to  the  place  and  personally 
desire  to  remain  there.  Then,  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  an 
opportunity  to  settle  in  the  Parish  of  Montrose  on  a  salary 
of  five  hundred  dollars,  which  seems  to  indicate  the  path 
of  duty.  Between  duty  and  inclination — ought  I  to  hesi 
tate?" 

"  Duty  and  inclination,"  he  replied,  "  become  one  in  the 
good  man's  career." 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  there  is  first  to  be  settled  where  the  duty 
lies." 

"  True,  sir,  your  duty  is  but  a  particular  one,  perhaps,  in 
respect  to  Montrose ;  it  may  be  general  in  as  far  as  your 
present  position  is  concerned." 

"  I  should  have  no  question  as  to  the  duty  of  remaining 
where  I  now  am,  provided  I  could  see  any  way  to  liberate 
myself  from  my  embarrassments." 

"  Then  you  desire  a  larger  salary,  in  order  to  pay  your 
debts  F 

"  Precisely  that,  sir." 

"  Well,  the  new  salary  that  will  support  a  minister,  and 
enable  him  to  pay  up  arrearages,  must  be  considerable 
more  than  the  old." 

"  In  this  case  it  will  be  one  hundrec^  dollars  a  year  more." 


234  PARISH-SIDE. 

"  Not  enough,  sir." 

"  No  f 

"  Not  enough." 

;'  I  have  thought  that  I  could  appropriate  the  excess,  i.  e. 
the  one  hundred  dollars  yearly,  to  my  debts  till  they  were 
paid  ;  and  live  as  now,  on  the  four  hundred." 

"  But  you  don't  live  on  the  '  four  hundred.'  You  have 
made  a  debt." 

"  True,  but  I  am  now  rigidly  economizing,  and  contrive 
to  live  on  the  salary." 

"  You  can't  as  well  economize  on  more,  as  on  less." 

"  How  so  ]" 

"Because  the  temptation  to  spend  money  is  greater. 
You  may  set  it  down  as  a  truth,  that  if  you  receive  a  salary 
of  five  hundred  dollars  a  year,  instead  of  four  hundred,  that 
you  will  be  under  the  temptation,  and  will  yield  to  it,  to 
buy  just  so  many  more  articles  of  living,  and  spend  just  so 
many  more  dollars  of  the  salary,  as  there  are  dollars  added. 
You  form,  with  increasing  prosperity,  enlarged  desires  and 
plans.  When  you,  therefore,  sum  up  the  year's  income 
and  expenditures,  you  will  find  yourself  as  poor  as  before." 

Mr.  Brown  did  not  "  precisely  allow  the  reasoning." 

"  Yes  ;  for  you  can  but  just  live  on  any  salary  that  you 
can  honestly  obtain  in  the  ministry ;  especially  above  six 
hundred  or  seven  hundred  dollars  a  year.  If  you  are  an 
eight  hundred  or  a  ten  hundred  dollars  minister,  your  rent 
is  expected  to  be  greater,  your  servants  to  cost  more,  your 
carpets,  your  whole  furniture,  your  library,  all  are  to  be  cor- 


PARIS  11 -SIDE.  235 

respondingly  expensive.  The  people  expect  it.  They  give 
the  salary  to  live  on,  not  to  hoard  in  the  banks  or  to  use  in 
speculations.  And  the  minister  who  enjoys  a  large  salary 
thinks  that  he  must  of  course  make  the  tour  of  Europe  at 
least  once  in  his  life  time.  He  must  journey  from  '  Maine 
to  Georgia.'  He  must  be  everywhere.  He  must  own  a 
fine  carriage,  a  noble  horse — not  a  plain  carriage,  or  com 
mon  horse.  His  pride  is  up.  He  must  purchase  every 
new  book,  subscribe  for  every  new  magazine,  and  his  family 
be  indulged  in  all  their  wishes.  There  is  no  end  to  his  ex 
penses.  And  where  one  minister  with  a  thousand  dollars 
salary  lays  up  money,  there  are  five  who  do  not.  There 
are  more  who  save  something  for  the  future  on  a  salary  of 
four  hundred  dollars  a  year." 

Mr.  Brown  thought  as  a  general  thing,  however,  they 
«rere  "  deeply  in  debt." 

"  Granted  that  many  are  so,"  returned  Esquire  Peters, 
"but  as  the  greater  proportion  of  ministers  are  of  the 
poorly-paid  class,  we  must  look  for  many,  the  most  in 
stances  of  embarrassment,  among  them,  and  yet  the  fact  re 
mains  as  I  have  stated  it.  And  besides  this,  I  do  not  allow 
that  they  are,  as  '  general  thing,  deeply  in  debt.'  No  sir, 
comparatively  few  of  them  are  so.  They  are  careful,  con 
scientious,  frugal,  afraid  of  debts.  And  now  I  will  mention 
to  you  the  case  of  an  excellent  man  in  the  ministry,  that  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Daniels.  He  is  at  present  in  rather  feeble 
health,  but  has  the  comfort  of  a  very  pleasant  home,  which 
he  owns.  He  was  always  an  acceptable,  though  by  no 


236  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

means  an  extravagantly  rich  and  showy  preacher,  but  a 
plain,  straight-forward,  sound  divine.  He  lived  well,  and 
educated  his  children  respectably.  In  his  old  age,  retired 
mostly  from  professional  labor,  he  enjoys  a  little  property 
that  he  has  saved  in  the  course  of  his  ministry.  I  think  it 
is  about  three  thousand  dollars.  But,  if  you  will  believe 
me,  he  has  never  had  over  five  hundred  dollars  salary,  and 
usually  but  about  four  hundred." 

Mr.  Brown  replied,  "  His  case  is  a  very  interesting  one. 
I  will  venture  to  inquire  if  he  had  a  large  family,  if  he  was 
not  a  strong  healthy  man,  and  his  wife  much  of  a  manager 
in  worldly  affairs  T 

u  His  family  was  never  a  large  one,  it  is  true ;  but  death, 
which  always  costs  something,  made  it  small.  He  was  never 
an  able-bodied,  rugged  man,  but  rather  the  reverse ;  and 
was  always  compelled  to  be  careful  of  his  health ;  and  Mrs. 
Daniels,  although  an  excellent  housewife,  and  greatly  be 
loved  by  all  her  acquaintances,  was  a  person  of  slender  con 
stitution." 

"  Then  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Brown,  with  a  smile,  "  he  must 
have  had  very  good  neighbors  and  devoted  friends." 

"  He  had  a  great  many  friends,  sir.  But,  like  the  rest 
of  us,  he  occasionally  fell  into  the  hands  of  sharpers." 

"  Indeed  !     And  did  he  lose  money  by  them  ?" 

"  Not  a  great  amount  at  any  one  time,  but  he  had  some 
annoyances  and  hard  bargains,  every  now  and  then,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world.  For  instance :  He  bought  a  '  famous' 
cow  of  John  Bakeman — so  John  called  it.  She  was  large, 


PARISH-SIDE.  237 

head  a  fine  appearance,  and  looked  like  one  of  the  best  of 
milch-cows.  That  was  what  Mr.  Daniels  wanted — that  was 
what  Bakeman  sold  her  for.  As  for  tricks,  defects,  and 
such  like,  he  '  didn't  know  of  any  worth  mentioning,  ex 
cepting  this,  that  as  she  grazed  on  the  hill  side,  and  down 
by  the  river,  among  the  briars,  the  bag  was  apt  to  get 
scratched  and  sore,  causing  her,  sometimes,  to  kick  a  little? 
As  for  butter,  she  was  '  ten-pounds-a-week,'  at  that ;  but  as 
his  family  was  large,  they  drank  up,  and  used  in  baking,  all 
the  milk,  making  no  account  whatever  of  the  cream.  Yet 
on  one  occasion,  '  he  remembered  that  his  wife  made  six 
pounds  of  butter  from  a  week's  cream — or  so,  while  the 
children  took  as  much  milk  as  they  wanted." 

"  Fine  recommendation,  truly." 

"Very  good.  And  Mr.  Daniels  bought  the  cow.  He 
found,  however,  on  trial,  that  the  tenderness  of  the  milking 
process,  was  owing  to  little  obstinate  sores  on  the  animal 
that  were  easily  irritated,  and  '  kicking'  was  the  natural 
remedy  to  which  the  creature  resorted  when  put  in  dis 
tress.  The  cow  very  often  dashed  the  pail  over,  and  Mr. 
Daniels  more  than  once  found  himself  on  his  back,  the  de 
licious  contents  of  the  pail  rapidly  conveying  themselves 
into  his  neck,  or  besprinkled  with  leopard-like  accuracy  and 
permanency  over  his  robes  !" 

We  all  smiled  at  this  poor  dilemma  of  good  Mr. 
Daniels. 

"  The  cow  was  sold  at  a  loss.  She  was  neither  peaceable 
nor  good  for  butter.  It  was  a  regular  swindle." 


238  PARISH -SIDE. 

"  You  have  made  out  of  it  quite  a  case  of  trouble,  as  well 
as  a  very  facetious  story,  sir." 

"  Oh !  well,  sir,  he  met  with  other  trials  and  losses. 
Once  it  occurred  that  his  wife  and  family  were  a  long  time 
sick,  and  a  few  people  of  his  Parish  collected  thirty  dollars 
and  sent  it  to  him  for  the  purchase  of  some  little  conve 
niences,  or  things  necessary  in  their  condition.  The  money 
was  sent  in  a  letter.  It  happened  that  his  physician  came 
in  at  the  very  moment  Mr.  Daniels  was  reading  the  letter, 
and  understanding  immediately  the  drift  of  it,  he  told  him 
that  he  was  in  great  want  of  thirty  dollars  to  pay  for  a 
horse  he  had  just  bought.  And  he  proposed,  that  if  Mr. 
Daniels  would  let  him  have  thirty  dollars,  although  his  bill 
was  forty-five,  he  would  give  him  a  receipt  in  full.  What 
could  he  do  1  He  gave  it  to  him,  and  provided  for  his 
necessities  out  of  his  own  funds." 

"  I  declare,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Brown,  "  that  was  a  hard  case, 
and  it  may  seem  to  me  the  more  so,  inasmuch  as  my  own 
physician  never  could  be  persuaded  to  accept  from  me  a 
dollar  for  all  his  attention  and  services  in  my  family." 

"  Just  so  it  is  here,"  said  Esquire  Peters.  "  Physicians 
don't  charge  their  ministers  anything  in  half  the  parishes  of 
the  country.  And  yet  they  have  as  good  a  claim  on  them 
for  their  attendance,  as  they  have  on  any  other  persons,  and 
ministers'  families  want  as  much  waiting  on  as  those  of 
their  parishioners." 

"  Certainly  they  do,  sir.  But  will  you  now  be  so  good 
as  to  tell  me  how  I  shall  pay  my  debts  f 


PA  HIS  II -SIDE.  239 

"How  much  do  you  owe  '*" 

"Four  hundred  dollars." 

"  And  your  salary  is —  ?" 

"  Four  hundred  dollars." 

"  Won't  the  people  increase  it  ?" 

"  They  don't  think  it  possible." 

"  Do  they  wish  you  to  remain  with  them  1" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  really  wish  to  pay  your  debts — enough  to 
make  some  sacrifice  ?'' 

"  I  think  I  do — any  sacrifice  in  my  power." 

"  "Well,  then,  I  will  dictate  a  plan  of  relief.  You  have  a 
good  horse,  carriage,  and  fixtures.  These  arc  worth,  I  know, 
two  hundred  dollars.  Sell  them" 

"  Ah  !  but,  my  dear  sir,  how — how  can  I — how  can  I  get 
over  my  Parish  without  a  horse  and  carriage." 

"  Never  mind  your  Parish.  If  your  Parish  requires  you 
to  keep  a  horse  to  visit  the  families,  then  they  must  enable 
you  to  buy  one.  Sell  them.  There  is  two  hundred  dollars, 
and  it  costs  one  hundred  more  to  keep  them.  Then  we 
have  three  hundred.  You  have  ten  acres  of  land,  and  a 
good  cow.  Sell  the  cow.  There  is  fifty  dollars  more." 

••  Why  !  my  dear  sir,  the  cow  keeps  us  from  starvation  ! 
My  dear  wife  and  children  could  not  get  along  without  her." 

"  SELL  her.  Trust  Providence.  If  the  people  see  you 
'  starving,'  they  will  give  you  another.  Sell  her.  Then 
advertise  your  library — your  Scott's  Commentary,  Dodd- 
ridge's  Exposition,  Concordance,  and  the  best  and  most 


240  PARISH-SIDE. 

valuable  of  your  books,  or  a  part  of  your  land,  or  your 
feather  beds,  to  raise  the  balance,  and,  sir,  you  are  again  a 
free  man." 

Mr.  Brown  shuddered  and  turned  pale,  and  wiped  his 
brow  with  his  handkerchief,  and  sighed  out  a  long-drawn 
breath  from  a  soul  that  was  groaning  and  weeping  within. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  lawyer.  "You  have  got  the 
property  to  pay  with.  You  bought  these  goods  on  credit, 
now  part  with  them,  and  my  word  for  it,  your  people  will, 
within  three  weeks  give  them  all  back  to  you !  Thafs  the 
way,  sir,  to  raise  your  salary.  Put  yourself  in  the  hands  of 
your  people,  and  if  they  are  not  worse  than  a  tribe  of  roving 
Arabs,  they  will  rally  around  you.  Keep  to  your  work. 
Don't  sit  down  and  cry  over  it,  and  flare  up  into  a  passion, 
and  ask  a  dismission.  No,  no.  Let  it  be  known  that  you 
are  an  honest,  single-minded,  hard-working,  God-trusting 
minister — not  a  mere  SALARIED  AGENT,  but  a  man !  a  man  of 
work,  of  toil,  of  faith,  of  patience,  to  reprove  of  sin,  right 
eousness  and  judgment  to  come.  Then  you  and  your  family 
will  immediately  enjoy  the  active  sympathy  and  relief 
of  your  Parish." 

Mr.  Brown  walked  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  law 
yer's  office. 

"  There  is  more  than  one  way  to  get  along,"  continued 
Esquire  Peters.  "  If  your  people  can't  or  won't  raise  your 
salary,  they  can  and  they  will  help  you  out  of  such  a  state 
as  I  have  now  placed  you  in.  They  wish  to  see  you — then 
let  them  give  you  a  horse.  They  want  good  sermons — 


PARISH -SIDE.  241 

then  let  them  buy  you  commentaries.  They  want  your 
family  should  have  enough  bread  and  milk  to  be  at  least  a 
credit  to  them — then  let  them  buy  you  a  cow." 

"You  have  said  some  true  things,  Esquire  Peters.  I 
thank  you.  Now  if  I  had  the  nerve  to  meet  this." 

"Nerve,  why,  my  dear  sir,  it  don't  require  half  the  nerve 
that  it  does  to  bear  a  daily  burden  of  debt  such  as  you 
carry  from  year  to  year." 

"  I'll  try  it,  sir—/  will  try  «/,"  said  Mr.  Brown.  "  If  I 
fail—" 

"  You  won't  fail.  If  you  do,  I'll  make  you  a  present  of 
the  best  horse  there  is  in  Hills  county." 

"  And  the  offer  to  go  and  settle  at  Montrose,  on  a  salary 
of  five  hundred  dollars  ?" 

"  Instantly  decline.  You  lose  all  your  old  friends  if  you 
accept  it.  You  can't  make  any  as  reliable  ones  in  their 
place  for  two,  three,  or  five  years.  You  must  be  at  a  good 
deal  of  expense  and  trouble  to  remove.  You  are  much  at 
tached  to  the  people  where  you  now  are,  and  know  their 
circumstances  and  necessities.  You  enjoy  a  pleasant  con 
nection  with  your  brother  ministers  about  here.  You  are 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  very  best  of  schools  for  your 
children.  You  are  wanted  here.  Your  work  is  here.  Why 
go  from  all  this  to  a  new  and  a  strange  people,  with  no 
greater  cause  for  removal  than  you  have  mentioned,  and 
with  so  little  prospect  of  any  better  field  of  labor,  or  im 
provement  in  your  pecuniary  concerns  ?" 
11 


242  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

"  I  think,  sir,  you  have  done  me  good  by  your  advice.  I 
do  really  thank  you,  and  will  endeavor  that  it  shall  not  be 
lost.  There  is  this  one  thing  that  I  would  speak  of  before 
I  leave  the  subject.  I  have  thought  that  a  society  would 
sometimes  be  led  to  raise  their  minister's  salary,  rather 
than  lose  him.  If  I  have  a  call  to  Montrose,  and  am  of 
fered  five  hundred  dollars,  will  not  my  people  advance  a 
hundred  also,  if  they  find  me  disposed  to  accept  it." 

"  No,  that  is,  if  they  have  the  right  spirit,  they  will  not. 
If  my  minister  wants  to  go  away  merely  for  money,  I  let 
him  go.  If  he  plays  a  game  of  chance  with  me  of  this 
nature,  pretending  that  he  will  go,  in  order  to  draw  out  more 
salary,  I  let  him  play  the  game  out.  Many  a  minister  has 
lost  a  good  place  in  this  same  manner.  No,  sir ;  throw 
yourself  on  your  people.  If  health,  and  duty,  and  provi 
dence  do  imperatively  call  you  away,  then  go  away.  But 
don't  create  a  case  and  then  go.  No,  no,  obey  the  calls  of 
providence.  Debts  are  nothing  !  fiddle-sticks,  I've  been  col 
lecting  debts  all  my  days,  and  now  I  tell  you,  sir,  never 
leave  a  good  Parish  on  their  account.  They  are  easily  dis 
posed  of,  and  never  so  easily  as  among  one's  long  tried 
friends !  I  have  known  some  ministers  who  changed 
places  three  or  four  times  to  pay  their  debts  and  who  at 
last  died  in  great  poverty.  Others  I  have  been  acquainted 
with,  who  have  mourned  bitterly  their  '  false  steps'  as  they 
termed  them,  of  this  very  nature.  A  great  eater  up  of  a 
small  salary  is  a  horse,  with  wagon,  carriage,  harnesses,  &c. 


PARISH -SIDE.  243 

Now  if  any   Parish  in  this    country  wants  a  minister  to 
keep  a  horse  and  carriage,  let  the  people  pay  for  it !" 

Mr.  Brown  felt  immediately  relieved  of  his  depression 
of  spirits  by  this  conversation,  and  went  home  to  "  raise  his 
salary." 


CHAPTEE    XXXV. 

THE    SUBJECT     CONCLUDED,   BY     AN     ARGUMENT. 

I  TOLD  Esquire  Peters  who  shook  hands  cordially  with 
Mr.  Brown  as  he  left  the  office,  that  I  wished  every  minis 
ter  in  the  country  could  have  heard  the  conversation." 

"  Well,  Mr.  CLARK,"  said  he,  "  it  would  do  no  more  good 
than  the  Rev.  Doctor  Whiting  accomplished  by  preaching 
so  earnestly  on  Infant  Baptism  in  his  parish." 

"  How  was  that  ?" 

"  Why  all  the  peaceable  Baptists  in  his  society  imme 
diately  left  it,  and  all  the  doubters,  doubted  still,  and  the 
believing  hesitated  as  to  the  expediency  of  the  practice. 
So  that  in  ten  years,  besides  his  own,  he  baptised  but  five 
children." 

We  had  a  hearty  laugh  over  this.  Not,  to  be  sure,  at  its 
representing  so  forcibly  the  parental  neglect  of  a  religious 
ceremony  greatly  endeared  to  us,  but  at  the  '  Doctor's'  un 
expected  disappointment. 

"  After  all  Esquire  Peters"  I  enquired,  "  do  you  not  a 
lit'  Je  too  strenuously  defend  parishes  that  give  their  minis- 
f  s  but  small  salaries  ?" 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  245 

"  I  would  not  defend  a  parish  in  anything  mean  or  un 
just,"  said  he. 

"  Of  course  not ;  but  there  are  a  great  many  parishes 
where  the  salary  might  be  increased  if  the  people  were  so 
disposed." 

"  Well,  if  they  are  indisposed,  shall  their  pastors  on  this 
account  leave  them  ?" 

"  Why  may  not  a  pastor  leave  his  people  from  such  a 
cause,  especially  after  representing  to  them  again  and  again 
their  sin  and  neglect  1" 

"  Is  it,"  he  inquired,  "  a  greater  sin  in  them  to  neglect 
his  personal  accommodation,  than  their  own  duty  of  imme 
diate  repentance  towards  God  ?  And  yet  shall  he  leave  a 
place  simply  because  the  people,  or  a  portion  of  them,  con 
tinue  Godless,  or  cold  in  their  affections,  and  you  must  al 
low  that  this  is  not  a  question  of  absolute  necessity  but 
only  one  of  additional  comfort  ?" 

I  contended  that  it  often  seemed  "  to  be  something  nearer 
to  '  necessity'  than  a  '  comfort'  or  '  convenience.'  " 

He  thought  that  the  point  presented  by  him  was  in  gene 
ral  the  rule,  and  that  mine  was  the  exception  to  it. 

"  If  so,"  I  replied,  "  you  are  aware,  sir,  that  offences 
against  our  fellow  men  may  be  measured,  while  those  es 
pecially  committed  against  God  are  infinite,  admitting  neith 
er  comparison  nor  excuse." 

"  True,"  said  he.  "  But  if  the  infinite  One  bears  with  the 
neglect  of  his  finite  worm,  may  not  this  afford  us  lessons 
of  patience  with  one  another  ?" 


240  PARISH-SIDE. 

"  And  yet"  said  I,  "  coming  back  to  the  point,  you  would 
support  well  the  faithful  minister,  you  are  in  favor  of  gene 
rous  salaries  ?" 

"  By  all  means,  sir.  Yes,  the  parish  that  is  able  to  sup 
port  a  minister  well,  and  will  not,  is  guilty  of  a  meanness 
and  a  sin  that  is  seldom  perpetrated  in  any  other  transact 
ions  in  civilized  life,  where  dollars  and  cents  come  into  the 
account,  and  deserves  to  be  severely  censured.  Still  I 
would  not  go  for  the  highest  salaries.  I  think  that  a  fat 
and  pampered  ministry  is  a  greater  calamity  than  a  suffer 
ing  one.  It  will  degenerate,  sir,  and  become  idle,  effemi 
nate — nay  vicious.  There  must  be  suffering.  God's  hand 
was  on  BUNYAN'S  prison-lock.  HE  had  something  to  do 
with  ejecting  two  thousand  ministers  from  their  pulpits  for 
their  non-conformists  sentiments,  and  sending  the  PURITAN 
divines  to  the  American  forests.  The  world  needs  a  depend 
ent,  hard-working,  self-sacrificing,  God-honoring  ministry 
not  a  rich,  gaudy,  overfed,  and  effeminate  one." 

I  agreed  with  Esquire  Peters  in  these  views  for  the  most 
part,  but  assured  him  that  I  thought  they  offered  no  "  ex 
cuse  to  a  narrow-minded  and  neglectful  people." 

"  None,  none  !  NONE  ! !"  said  he,  emphatically.  "  The 
Saviour  has  said,  ' Feed  my  sheep  J  'Feed  my  lambs,''  and  I 
see  not  why  these  commands  may  not  as  well  define  my 
duty  to  the  minister,  as  his  to  me." 

I  told  him  that  I  did  not  care  to  prolong  the  conversation. 
"  Yet,"  said  I,  "  it  does  not  seem  to  me  quite  candid  to  say 
so  much  in  favor  of  cheap  living  and  small  salaries,  drawn 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  12* 

from  the  habits  of  ministers  who  lived  thirty,  forty,  ana 
fifty  years  ago,  in  times  of  far  greater  simplicity  of  man 
ners  than  now,  and  make  them  the  standard  for  all  future 
time." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  he  quickly. 

"  Besides,  sir,"  I  continued,  "  it  seems  to  me  something 
like  '  crocodiles  tears'  to  weep  at  the  remembrance  of  vir 
tues  and  customs  past,  and  commend  them  to  ministers  to 
imitate,  when  their  compliance  would  be  money  in  the 
pockets  of  these  virtuosoes." 

"  Very  well  put !"  said  he,  "  call  them  vampires,  blood 
suckers." 

"  And  further,  sir,"  said  I,  "  it  cannot  but  be  unjust  to 
charge  the  ministry  as  venal  and  mercenary,  simply  for  ask 
ing  and  accepting  an  increase  of  salary  now  that  we  all  ac 
knowledge  the  times  have  greatly  changed  from  the  days 
of  our  fathers,  and  that  the  expenses  of  common  life  even, 
are  greater  than  formerly.  You  might  as  well  make  them 
of  men  in  other  professions,  as  well  might  you  require  law 
yers,  sir,  yes  LAWYERS  to  live  as  they  once  did,  and  charge 
no  more  for  their  services  or  suffer  the  cry,  '  venality  /' 
1  mcrcenariness  /' " 

"  Lawyers  !"  said  he,  rising,  "  lawyers  ;  why  my  dear  sir, 
lawyers !  lawyers !  they  are  the  hardest-working,  poorest 
paid,  coarsest^fed  and  clothed,  and  the  most  patient  me* 
who  at  the  present  time  do  service  to  their  fellow-citizens." 

Of  course  I  could  but  laugh  heartilj  at  his  defence  of  hijj 
own  brother-hood. 


248  PAKISH-SIDE. 

Said  he,  "  There  is  one  thing  that  it  may  be  well  to  speak 
of  in  this  conversation.  I  allude  ,  to  poor  Parsonages  ! 
There  are  some  dismal-looking,  worm-eaten,  comfortless 
Parsonages  about  the  country — I  know  not  how  old  they 
are — untenantable  structures.  Yet  the  people  keep  them 
for  their  Pastors  !  They  have  no  other  place  to  put  them. 
They  reckon  them  so  much  in  the  salary  also.  They  who 
occupy  them,  often  and  justly  murmur.  They  contract  dis 
eases  in  them.  They  are  sometimes  hurried  to  their  graves 
on  account  of  their  unfitness  to  be  the  abodes  of  good  men. 
The  people  call  them  Parsonages.  Better  term  them,"  said 
he,  "  Parsimoniousnesses.  With  all  my  views  of  those 
matters,  I  can  assure  you  I  am  against  these  ways  !" 

Esquire  Peters  and  I  seldom  entertained  any  very  di 
verse  opinions  on  these  points.  We  parted. 


CHAPTER  XXXYI. 

PREPARATIONS     FOR     THE     TOUR. 

ESQUIRE  PETERS  called  the  next  day  to  talk  with  me  fur 
ther  as  to  tho  minister's  leaving  us  for  a  foreign  tour.  We 
found  the  subject  one  somewhat  involved  in  difficulties.  In 
the  first  place  it  was  painful  to  part  with  him.  But  this  was 
comparatively  easy  to  dispose  of,  for  he  seemed  to  be  in 
a  condition  that  gave  us  the  assurance  of  forever  losing  him, 
if  we  did  not  take  some  action  to  secure  his  temporary  ab 
sence.  The  opposition  of  his  own  mind  to  a  separation 
from  us  and  from  his  family,  must  be  overcome.  Like 
many  other  sick  men,  he  fancies  himself  better  than  he  is, 
and  is  often  in  the  pulpit  when  the  Parish  would  prefer  to 
have  him  absent.  He  is  a  man  who,  as  long  as  he  can,  will 
continue  to  work.  He  had  rather  die  at  home  than  at 
Rome.  So  between  his  buoyancy  and  activity  on  the  one 
hand,  and  his  feebleness  and  apprehension  on  the  other, 
there  is  a  difficulty  to  be  overcome.  Perhaps  it  is  not  an 
insurmountable  one. 

Then  there  is  the  raising  of  the  money.    This  will  cost  an 

effort  and  it  may  be  we  shall  not  find  the  Parish  willing  to 

11* 


250  PARISH -SIDE.  I 

to  do  anything  so  generous  as  we  have  been  led  to  antici 
pate. 

But  here  comes  Colonel  Arrs.  Perhaps  he  will  give  us 
unexpected  encouragement. 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  said  the  colonel,  "  hope  you 
have  not  waited  for  me." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,"  answered  the  lawyer,  "  I  sent  for  you  to 
meet  us  here,  as  we  are  talking  about  the  best  wTay  to  pro 
vide  for  the  pastor's  leaving  us  on  a  voyage  to  Europe." 

"  Yes !" 

"  We  suppose  that,  if  all  other  hinderances  are  removed, 
that  there  will  still  remain  the  raising  of  funds.  He  has 
not  money  enough  of  his  own,  I  conclude?" 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  Money  is  wanted,  and  that  rather 
plentifully,  gentlemen,  to  go  over  Europe." 

"  How  much  will  be  necessary  ?"  we  inquired. 

"  It  depends,  of  course,  on  the  time  consumed,  and  the 
extent  of  his  travels.  I  think  he  will  need,  at  least,  a  thous 
and,  he  will  probably  want  fifteen  hundred  dollars, — that 
is, — if  he  is  absent  ten  or  twelve  months." 

"  Well,  say  twelve  hundred  dollars,"  said  the  lawyer ; 
"  can  we  raise  it,  or  eight  hundred  at  the  least,  among  the 
people  ?" 

"  Can  but  try,  gentlemen." 

"  We  ought  to  help  him." 

"  To  be  sure  we  had." 

"  He  has  labored  hard  enough  among  us,  while  we  all 
know  that  his  services  have  been  sought  elsewhere  at  a 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  251 

higher  salary  than  ours,  and  where  it  may  be  his  labors 
would  have  been  less." 

"  May  have  been,  and  they  may  have  been  harder." 

"  Still,  the  man  is  a  useful  minister,  and  a  good  citizen, 
and  a  fine  manager  for  himself  and  the  society.  We  ought 
to  appreciate  the  benefit  to  us  of  such  an  one." 

"  I  think,"  replied  the  colonel,  "  that  you  can  raise  eight 
or  nine  hundred  dollars  for  him." 

"  Well,  suppose  we  attempt  it,  what  is  the  best  course  to 
adopt  r 

"  I  should  say  that  it  would  be  well  to  put  down  our  own 
subscriptions  first  on  paper,  drawn  up  here,  drawn  up  now, 
by  you,  Esquire  Peters,  and  then  each  of  us  take  a  copy  of 
it  and  go  to  work." 

Esquire  Peters  needed  no  urging  to  do  this.  He  sat 
down  at  my  desk,  and  prepared  the  papers. 

"  Now,"  said  the  colonel,  "  time  is  money.  Put  our  firm 
down  a  hundred  dollars,  provided,"  he  continued,  taking  up 
one  of  the  papers,  and  holding  his  cane  ready  to  leave, 
"  provided,  gentlemen,  you  will  each  of  you  do  the  same." 

The  lawyer  looked  at  me,  and  I  at  him,  and  the  colonel 
at  both  of  us. 

"  Why,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  it's  nothing  for  ye.  And 
if  it  were,  how  in  the  world  are  you  going  to  raise  nine  hun 
dred  dollars  in  this  Parish,  and  from  among  people  some  of 
whom  never  saw  a  sick  day  in  their  life,  and  think  a  sick 
man  is  merely  a  hypochondriac,  and  a  voyage  to  Europe  is 


252  PARIS  II -SIDE. 

one  of  pure  vanity,  or  a  senseless  whim,  unless  you  do 
about  half  of  it  yourselves  V 

I  felt  the  force  of  his  remarks,  but  had  not  calculated  that 
my  proportion  would  be  over  twenty-five  dollars,  and 
Esquire  Peters  had  thought  he  should  subscribe  fifty. 

"  Proportion !  gentlemen,  I  have  long  given  that  up.  A 
man  must  give  for  himself,  and  not  for  other  people.  They 
talk  of  doing  people  good  by  making  them  give.  It  may 
do  sometimes,  but  natural  meanness  cleaves  to  a  man  who  is 
selfish,  and  what  you  force  from  him  at  one  time,  he  will 
get  back  at  another.  Generosity,  my  friends,  is  the  best 
rule.  Give  while  you  can.  Give,  if  there  is  a  worthy  ob 
ject  of  charity ;  and  if  there's  a  money-saver  around,  who 
sees  that  because  you  have  been  generous  he  needn't  give  at 
all  (!)  let  him  go,  he  ain't  worth  pinching. 

The  squire  said  if  it  were  best  to  put  down  a  hundred,  he 
would  do  so.  And  seeing  him  write  his  name  for  that 
amount,  I  was  compelled — and  did  it  unreluctantly — to  fol 
low  suit. 

"  There  now,"  said  the  colonel,  "  we  have  got  over  the 
main  difficulty.  Dr.  Alexander  must  give  a  hundred,  Mrs. 
Hart  well  a  hundred.  The  young  men  must  raise  among 
themselves  two  hundred,  and  we'll  get  the  balance — I  don't 
care  if  it  amounts  to  a  thousand — in  such  quantities  as  we 
can." 

So  saying,  the  colonel  left  us. 

We  found  that  relief  had  come  indeed.  True  it  came  out 
of  our  own  purses  somewhat,  but  we  knew  when  we  under- 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  258 

took  the  matter,  that  they  who  desire  to  benefit  another, 
must  themselves  lift  the  first  stone. 

We  went  abroad  through  the  day,  and  succeeded  so 
much  better  than  we  expected,  that  ere  the  sun  went  down, 
it  was  evident  that  the  whole  sum  of  nine  hundred  dollars 
would  be  raised.  We  subscribed  the  money  payable  im 
mediately,  or  at  any  time  within  six  months  or  a  year,  to 
the  order  of  Esquire  Peters  and  Colonel  Arrs,  for  the 
pastor. 

There  were  some  very  singular  objections  made  to  sign 
ing  the  papers,  by  individuals  to  whom  we  made  applica 
tion. 

One  person,  who  o\vns  a  good  deal  of  property  among 
us,  thought  there  was  danger  the  pastor  would  meet  with 
the  cholera  in  Europe,  and  would  certainly  die  if  he  went 
there.  He  declined  giving  anything  out  of  benevolent  feel 
ing.  In  "  Disputing  Territory"  where  there  is  some  wealth, 
we  found  one  man  who  would  have  given  ten  dollars,  if  one 
of  his  neighbors  had  not  already  given  three.  And  another 
who  felt,  he  said,  under  no  obligation  to  preserve  the  life  of 
a  minister  who  bought  butter  and  eggs  of  one  of  the  great 
est  scoundrels  in  the  •*"  Territory,"  (meaning  one  ivith  whom 
he  had  a  twenty-years  variance  /)  One  individual  said  that 
all  he  had  to  give  was  his  prayers.  But,  as  he  generally 
excused  himself  from  praying  when  called  on  in  meeting, 
we  hardly  knew  how  to  estimate  their  value.  Another  per 
son  said  he  valued  his  minister  above  gold,  and  shouldn't  be 
a  party  to  sending  him  away  "  any  how."  And  a  very 


254  PARISH-SIDE. 

clever,  simple  sort  of  a  man  to  whom  we  applied,  assured 
us  that  all  he  could  do  with  his  "  team,"  he  should  be  glad  to. 

There  were  others  who  were  themselves  about  to  take 
journeys  and  couldn't  spare  anything,  still  others  who 
thought  the  minister  must  by  this  time  have  laid  up  a  thou 
sand  or  two  thousand  dollars,  and  he  had  better  spend  that. 
And  some  said  that  ministers  had  about  as  well  work  on  as 
long  as  they  could,  and  when  their  "  time  came"  die  like 
other  folks  !  But  most  of  these  objectors  at  last  gave 
something,  and  felt  quite  gratified  to  see  the  work  go  on. 
I  could  but  notice,  during  the  progress  of  this  subscription, 
how  easy  it  is  for  us  to  raise  objections  to,  and  treat  with 
coldness,  all  plans  for  doing  good,  and  yet  we  really  think 
and  do  far  different  from  what  we  say.  Most  men  are 
struggling  with  plans  of  their  own,  under  more  or  less  dis 
couragement,  and  extra  subscription  papers  put  them  out 
of  humor  at  the  first.  Yet  there  are  few  benevolent  men, 
who,  if  they  can  have  their  say  out,  will  not,  after  that, 
come  forward  and  do  their  part. 

It  is  most  gratifying  to  us  to  witness  the  general  good 
feeling  on  the  subject. 

Mrs.  Littleway  said  that  her  husband  was  always  a  great 
friend  to  ministers,  and  taught  her  to  be,  and  to  deny  her 
self,  and  said  she,  "  I  do  deny  myself  a  great  deal  for  them 
and  for  religion,  and  I  wish  to  do  so."  So  she  subscribed 
twenty  dollars  and  said  if  it  was  necessary,  she  should 
deny  herself  "  many  customary  privileges  to  pay  for  it." 


PARISH-SIDE.  255 

The  Misses  Breakwells  gave  us  twenty  dollars.  It  was 
the  general  desire  that  we  should  succeed — and  we  did  suc 
ceed! 

JOURNAL,  September  I5(h. — It  is  just  three  months  to-day 
since  the  death  of  Deacon  Hartwell.  He  is  very  much  re 
gretted  in  the  parish,  especially  among  his  most  intimate 
friends.  No  one  has  yet  been  mentioned  as  his  successor 
in  the  deaconship.  I  think  that  Marcus  Street  will  have  the 
appointment.  I  don't  know  among  us  one  who  is  better 
fitted  for  the  office. 

We  have  raised  a  thousand  dollars  for  the  Tour.  The 
Pastor  was  waited  on  three  weeks  ago  to  be  informed  of 
what  we  were  doing.  He  at  once  said,  "  I  can't  go  this  fall. 
Moreover  I  am  just  setting  out  for  the  Springs  to  be  absent 
a  month.  I  have  here  in  this  purse  fifty  dollars  from  the 
ladies  of  the  society,  for  this  very  object.  I  will  think  of 
it,  I  am  grateful — I  will  go — but  not  I  think  till  spring." 

He  has  not  yet  returned  from  his  journey,  but  writes  us 
that  he  seems  to  have  derived  much  benefit  from  his  excur 
sion. 


CHAPTEE    XXXVII. 

LEAVE  OF  ABSENCE — ARCHIBALD — THE  PARSONAGE. 

THE  Pastor  returned  from  the  Springs  really  looking 
like  himself,  and  we  began  to  hope  that  his  health  was  not 
so  seriously  impaired  as  we  had  imagined.  But  as  winter 
came  on,  and  its  exposure,  and  its  labors,  he  began  to  suffer 
from  his  old  complaints.  Through  January  and  February  he 
\vas  almost  wholly  confined  to  his  house.  In  March  the  physi 
cians  with  one  voice  told  him  he  must  entirely  cease  preach 
ing  for  some  time,  or  make  up  his  mind  to  leave  the  world. 

Mr.  Williams  met  this  decision  with  extraordinary  calm 
ness,  and  forthwith  asked  leave  of  absence  for  one  year. 
*  *  %  *  *  % 

May  20th. — The  society  having  given  Mr.  Williams 
leave  of  absence  for  one  year,  he  has  left  us  and  is  passing 
a  few  weeks  with  his  wife  at  her  father's,  near  the  city  of 
New  York.  We  learn  that  he  continues  feeble,  although 
he  is  not  confined  to  the  house,  and  indulges  the  hope  that 
his  contemplated  voyage  to  Europe,  towards  the  expenses 
of  which  the  Parish,  by  great  exertions,  have  made  arrange 
ments  to  pay,  at  least  one  thousand  dollars,  will  completely 
restore  him.  For  this  we  all  most  earnestly  pray.  Bitter 
has  been  this  parting  with  our  beloved  minister  and  his 
wife.  We  hardly  dare  expect  that  he  will  again  return. 


PARIS  II -SIDE.  257 

In  the  meantime  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ketchall,  recently  dis 
missed  from  Ham,  is  preaching  to  us  a  few  Sabbaths. 
Some  of  our  people  are  "  taken"  with  him,  but  the  greater 
part  do  not  seem  much  pleased.  lie  will  probably  leave 
in  two  or  three  weeks,  and  he  has  it  in  contemplation  to 
attempt  the  building  up  of  a  new  church  and  congregation 
in  the  city  of  New  York  ! 

*****  * 

The  cars  now  run  through  the  Hollow.  The  line  is  ex 
tended  above  us  and  will  go  on,  it  is  said,  to  Canada  !  Al 
ready  the  two  villages  begin  to  approach  each  other,  as 
dwellings  and  shops  continue  to  be  erected.  It"  is  wonder 
ful  to  notice  the  change  in  that  place.  They  have  already 
more  than  a  thousand  inhabitants,  and  others  are  flock 
ing  in  every  day.  Business  there  of  every  kind  is  thriving, 
and  if  the  business  and  activity  are  a  fair  index  of  the 
wealth,  I  think  the  people  must  be  in  very  flattering  cir 
cumstances. 

Our  society  has  suffered  a  good  deal  from  the  establish 
ment  of  churches,  and  the  new  order  of  things  in  the  Hol 
low.  We  have  lost  more  than  fifty  members,  and  a  good 
many  of  our  young  people  have  removed  there.  We  are 
decreasing  while  they  are  increasing.  Still  we  enjoy  some 
privileges  they  do  not,  and  trust  that  this  vine  of  the  Lord's 
planting  will  not  be  suffered  to  languish  and  die. 

Colonel  AITS  remains  as  yet  steadfastly  our  friend.  I 
hope  that  he  may,  by-and-by,  come  forward  and  unite  with 
the  church.  He  is  not  very  well  at  all  times.  Henry  Arrs 


258  PARISH -SIDE. 

is  doing  business  at  the  Hollow.     And  Marcus  Street  & 
Son  are  again  going  forward  with  their  "  works." 

Jones  &  Wilcox,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  have  been  burned 
out  and  have  failed  for  a  large  amount.  It  is  hinted  that 
Peter  Wilcox  and  one  of  his  rowdy  companions  set  fire  to 
the  buildings  with  their  own  hands,  out  of  revenge  for 
being  sent  away  from  the  shop  in  disgrace. 

John  Smith  is  no  more !  He  expired  suddenly  at  his 
work  in  March  last,  and  was  buried  in  our  cemetery  in  the 
rear  of  the  church. 

Mr.  Park,  our  Sexton,  still  rings,  and  tolls  our  Parish 
bell.  My  son  Robert  is  a  WALL  street  man  now,  and 
he  has  already  a  "  Dock"  contract  with  "  Government"  • 
amounting  to  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  !  He  supplies 
lumber  for  bridges,  railroads,  and  vessels,  an  immense 
amount !  He  still  speaks  of  millions  /" 

ARCHIBALD  is  yet  unmarried. 

****** 

June  10th. — The  "  BEST  OF  MINISTERS"  left  the  port  of 
New  York  for  Liverpool  on  the  second  day  of  this  month. 
May  a  kind  providence  waft  him  safely  over  the  waters,  and 
return  him  to  us  again  in  due  time,  refreshed  in  body  and 
mind,  endued  with  new  energy  for  his  master's  work. 

The  PARSONAGE  is  without  an  occupant ! 


THE   END. 


YB7339S 


M204181 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


